when you wake, the sun will rise
by honeydewbunnies
Summary: His words are resonant with the inevitability that this is the last time he will ever see home and that he will most likely die. Still, they promise to return. [Hunger Games AU]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We do not own Haikyuu! or the Hunger Games series.

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><p><em><strong>In Penance For Their Uprising: <strong>__**  
><strong>_  
>As a reminder of the rebellion against the Capitol, each of twelve districts shall offer up two tributes—a male or female between the ages of twelve and eighteen— at a gathering known as the public "reaping". This is the price the districts must pay for their wrongful betrayal against the Capitol. Following the public "reaping", these tributes shall be delivered onto the custody of the Capitol, wherein they will be transferred to an open arena, where they will fight to the death—until only one or two tributes from the same district win.<p>

_Henceforth and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games._

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><p>1. <strong>Sugawara, Koushi<strong>

_"You're worrying about nothing." He says lightly, chuckling a bit and waving his hands. There is a harsh chill in the air, just as there always is during this time of year. They are sitting motionless at the edge of a ravine, gazing at what seems to be an endless field of golden grass before cutting off abruptly by a rusted, chain-link_

_fence. It served as a partition, blocking off hills that were blanketed with evergreen forests that signified freedom outside of their district. It was here where they often came to think, to decompress and to escape the burdens of everyday life. It was a place they deemed to be just for them, a haven of sorts, to focus on themselves._

_Here, where freedom was almost _too_ close._

_The lighter-haired one of the two curls up to blow warm air into his shaking palms, often the one to constantly seek ways to keep warm. He has a light blue scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, which seems to be the only part of his body that isn't outwardly shuddering in cold._

_The other frowns for a moment, his concern not yet completely washed away._

_"Koushi…" Daichi voices quietly._

_"It was a dream." Sugawara adds somewhat dismissively—but it's in a way that isn't off-putting or insulting to the other. "We'll be all right. It's the last year our names are going to be in the reaping bowl." He pauses, rubbing his hands together before smiling up at Daichi. Sugawara's eyes are gentle, and somehow it momentarily gives Daichi the strength to allow his worries to dissipate._

_Daichi inhales deeply, as if struggling to physically dispel his troubled thoughts through a single breath._

_"It'll be okay," Sugawara promises, softly nudging him with his shoulder. His voice is barely above that of a whisper, his radiant brown eyes half-lidded and relaxed._

_Hesitating, Daichi glances over at Sugawara again. Daichi seems placated, and soon he nods hesitantly._

_With that, they turn their full attentions back to the view in front of them, in quiet contemplation of how life would be without the constant fear of reaping day._

_The conversation has ended, and they sit in silence._

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><p>"<em>Sugawara Koushi<em>."

He can hear the faint rustling in the distance, the beginnings of a virtually tranquil crowd gradually evolving into a maelstrom of unrestrained cries and pandemonium. He can sense the chaos ensuing, bubbling lightly at first, before erupting all around him. He stands confused, with his feet frozen to the ground and his arms tight against his sides at an utter loss of what to say or do.

Slowly, his eyes are widening with realization while his lips move to form a small 'o'.

Everything goes quiet.

_Mute._

Where he stands, he can see with his own eyes that people are kicking fiercely, their mouths distorting into what he perceives to be blood-curdling screams. Their eyes, their _faces_ are contorted into what could only be described as pure anguish. Their limbs are struggling to break free from the peacekeepers, pushing and jerking away. Families are weeping in despair, others shaking, crouched down onto the dirt and holding their loved ones close.

He tilts his head, regarding the scene playing out in front of him. He realizes with time that things _haven't_ gone quiet; his mind just simply cannot comprehend it.

He wills himself to move, to do his part in ending this turmoil, but his feet refuse and cannot comply. Sugawara swallows, re-imagining the twisted faces in the crowd, how terrified they'd been seconds before, but are now shattering and screaming for him. This transpired every year because the district never truly wanted to surrender one of its own. The peacekeepers had to compensate for the reaction, spreading out evenly to keep movements amongst the people as restricted as possible. It is at this time that Sugawara experiences the feeling of having dread washed over one so rapidly –with barely even a _second_ to react.

Conjointly, he knows he cannot expose his fear for all the world to see.  
><em><br>He needs to be strong.  
><em>  
>It is not long after when he feels the cold, callous hands of the peacekeepers, wrapping their gloved fingers on his arms, dragging him up towards the front, towards a stage suspended above this madness. He goes willingly, though his feet are still having trouble complying, now substantially heavy and slow. Sugawara can feel his fists begin to clench and shake at his sides while his throat hitches in response.<p>

_He is going to do this_.

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><p>As he is hauled across the dusty, barren path towards the platform, he locks gazes with several of his friends, taking a moment to register each one for what he believes to be is the last time. He is <em>almost <em>calm,_ almost_ accepting of the situation presented onto him— until he sees Daichi. He recalls the earlier events of the morning and immediately frowns to himself, inwardly wincing at his outright dismissal of his friend's concern.

Sugawara is inclined to turn his head away remorsefully, to acknowledge the fact that he was wrong, but he can't bring himself to look away. Instead, he gazes at Daichi, in a hasty attempt to both apologize and comfort him wordlessly. Sugawara nods stiffly, smiling a smile that is both kind and determined _because at least it was him, and _not_ Daichi and _not _the others._

Sugawara's mind can still barely comprehend the situation; the shock has hardly even settled in. Peacekeepers are shuffling aside him, yanking him roughly from side to side, with one hand still clutching his upper arms as they use their free hands to aggressively shove any protesters away.

Daichi's head is down and facing the ground, with a heavy shadow cast over his face, covering his expression entirely. His fists are clenched decisively, but he isn't shaking. There is absolutely nothing in Daichi's body language that even remotely hints at fear. He seems resolute, though Sugawara cannot be sure why.

"Move it along," growls a peacekeeper, shoving Sugawara forward, knocking him in the back. Grunting a bit, and ready to continue, Sugawara steps ahead, his gaze still unable leave Daichi. His eyes continue to dart back at him, despite Sugawara's every effort to focus on the events at hand.

He was sure he saw Daichi's lips move.

Daichi was saying something.

Sugawara blinks to himself and for a split second, he has a flash of lucidity.

_What did he just say?_

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><p>Immediately after, he is carelessly propelled towards the stage. He stumbles onward haphazardly, his feet twisting beneath him, trying his best to straighten his shoulders and lift his head up high.<p>

_He is ready._ This is it.

Sugawara's eyes are now fixed on the escort, a man with thick, square-rimmed glasses wearing a peculiar outfit. _Capitol Couture, _he thinksthey called it. The escort smiles brilliantly at him. Oddly, Sugawara cannot feel any real hatred or condescension from the man.

There is constant talk about the various types of people inhabiting the Capitol. One thing Sugawara learned growing up was the Capitol's notion of self-importance, their superiority above all the districts. The districts are _inhuman_ and _beneath_ them, so of course, they'd feel disgusted merely even mingling with them.

But _this_ smile feels ironically genuine. Genuine and…, somehow oblivious.

The escort is reaching out a hand, beckoning him forward, while holding the microphone in his other hand. He has goldenrod wavy hair, but seems to have small, shimmering flecks of turquoise in it. His suit is tailored and dark, but in the sun, like his hair, it shines iridescent hues of blue and green. It reminds Sugawara of the insides of the 'Mother of Pearl' seashells that he used to collect with his deceased mother.

Straightening up, he shakes his head clear of his thoughts, before finally looking forward to the crowd. His mouth is drawn into a thin line, but his eyes are unwavering. His prior confusion is gone and all that is left is a sense of determination and obligation. He can do this, _because it's _him_, and it's not any of _them.

The escort, Takeda Ittetsu, he thinks the man said upon introduction, is waving towards the crowd, blathering on about something Sugawara chooses not to listen to. The escort is excited, attempting to minimize the smile tugging up at the corners of his lips.

"I VOLUNTEER!"

The escort pauses, mouth left ajar, with his head slanting slightly to the side. The entire reaping scene becomes silent—so silent that if a person were to whisper, it would probably be heard in volumes. Takeda tentatively takes a step forward, almost disbelievingly, as the crowds around the voice murmur and pull away. Takeda cranes his head forward. "Did I just hear-"

"I volunteer as tribute." The voice is clear and unwavering.

Behind his glasses, Takeda no longer endeavors to conceal his exhilaration. His smile has broken out in full, the hand with the microphone shaking with anticipation. "A… a volunteer?" He repeats the statement, as if making sure he didn't misunderstand.

Sugawara's eyes widen upon realization.

_No._

"We…" Takeda grins readily, his other hand clenching, pumping aside him in an enthusiastic manner, as if he was just presented with a new toy. "We have a volunteer! Please, come up!"

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><p>Sugawara begins to feel the stirrings of panic, anger, and fear travel throughout his mind and body. Before he knows it, he is stepping forward hurriedly to make eye contact with the volunteer, barely able to utter the thoughts forming in his mind.<p>

When he sees Daichi break away from the ground, making his way to approach him, Sugawara panics, biting down on his bottom lip, clutching his blue scarf in tandem.

Responding, Sugawara straightens. "NO! I-"

Takeda, who is not even looking at Sugawara at this point, makes a slight sway with his hand, motioning for the peacekeepers to take him away. The eager smile on Takeda's face never wavers.

"NO!"

Sugawara is aggressively ripped off the stage, earning a bloodied cheek for his disobedience. He is struggling even more, propelling himself away from the peacekeepers to run frantically towards the volunteer.

"_Daichi_! What do you think you're doing?! Don't—" He is abruptly drawn away, not by a peacekeeper, but by _Asahi_, one of his closest and dearest friends. Slowly but forcefully, Sugawara is half-carried and half-dragged back into a wave of people to simply watch as the events unfold.

_NO!_ His mind screams. His arms and legs twist and yank at his friend, demanding to be freed. He can hear a grunt from Asahi behind him, reacting to Sugawara's elbow thrusting into his chest. Asahi only tightens his grip, securing him.

"Keep quiet," Asahi says softly— almost inaudibly, his fear clearly affixed onto his face, "if you keep this up, it won't matter that Daichi volunteered for you."

Sugawara understands what Asahi is saying.  
>He's saying <em>not <em>to make Daichi's sacrifice in vain. Sugawara may not be going to participate in the games, but the guards would not hesitate to kill him anyway for insubordination.

Sugawara _knows_ this.  
>But he <em>can't.<br>_He _can't _keep quiet and stand idly by while Daichi throws away his life.

Halfheartedly, he pushes Asahi's arms away from him and steadies himself to protest, planting his feet into the ground.

"Suga", another voice pipes in. "_Don't_." There is a certain tone in the voice of the smaller person standing next to Asahi, and it's a resounding tone of futility.

Stop.

_There's nothing we can do._

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><p>Daichi is standing on the stage now, barely even sparing the escort a second glance. Takeda is inspecting him, curiously eyeing him from head to toe. He seems to be waiting for something, for a dramatic story alluding to why he had chosen to volunteer. Takeda remains there for what seems like hours, glancing at Daichi, fidgeting in suspense of what amazing details may lie ahead.<p>

After a few moments of Daichi maintaining his stoic, expressionless stance, it is obvious that Daichi intends to say nothing. This, however, does nothing to quell Takeda's enthusiasm. To Takeda's credit, he is _still_ smiling elatedly despite Daichi's unfriendly frown and stern, hard stare into the crowd.

Daichi's eyes _never _meet Sugawara's.

"The district's _first _volunteer!" Takeda echoes into the microphone. He pauses in delight, eyes teeming with emotion, before breaking into exuberant applause to emphasize his euphoria.

When met by silence, Takeda gulps nervously, clearing his throat sheepishly before dusting off his suit in effort to subtly transition to the next chosen participant for the Hunger Games. "And now for the second tribute…" He lifts his hand with stunning panache, tugging lightly on the cuff of his suit, as graceful fingers reach deep into the glass bowl full of names.

..

.

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><p>Sugawara rushes towards the door, slamming it open, causing it to crash against the wall, then ricochet back towards those following after him. He knows they only have a few moments to say their goodbyes.<p>

"_Daichi, damn it!"_

Upon entering, Daichi has his back faced to them, gazing out a small window inside the room he is contained in. He turns when he hears their footsteps approaching, hastily making their way towards him. At first Daichi is reticent, glancing briefly at Asahi and Nishinoya, both not speaking, then refocuses his attention on Sugawara.

"Why'd you volunteer?" Sugawara has his fists clenched so firmly that his hands are gradually turning white. He is gritting his teeth and lifting his head in defiance, near angry at the situation. Sugawara's voice is rising with the diminishing control of his escaping emotions. "I COULD'VE HANDLED IT—"

"KOUSHI," Daichi replies, in a voice that matches the tone of his own. "Stop it. I want this. I'd… rather this." He glancing down thoughtfully before looking up at Sugawara, eyes firm with the resolve Sugawara saw earlier. "You can't change my mind."

Sugawara initially balks at Daichi's resolve, staring into Daichi's expression of determination. He curls his fingers into an even tighter ball as the overwhelming futility of the situation crashes down and paralyzes him. He _can't _do anything to help Daichi. Nishinoya was right. There is _nothing he can do._

Before Sugawara even notices it himself, his fists are slowly uncoiling. His throat is choking and he can feel his eyes glaze, stinging and starting to tear. "Daichi…" There is a crack in Suga's voice, and he is trembling.

He freezes when Daichi pulls him into a strong, all-encompassing hug.

"Take care of everything here", Daichi says quietly. "You can forage the forests for food and herbs. Get some help from Noya and Asahi, they might be able to trade or spare some cheese and milk." He glances up at Asahi for confirmation, and Asahi nods silently, mouth drawn into a thin line, as the corners of his lips quiver, trying hard not to falter. Nishinoya stands straight aside him, his voice mirroring his confidence.

"You can count on us, Daichi."

Daichi makes a soft nod and bows his head lightly, to emphasize his gratitude. He turns back to Sugawara. Sugawara is hiccupping now, both hands fumbling at his scarf, alternating between quiet, gasping sobs to louder, more unrestrained sounds of protests. Daichi regards Sugawara, his words trailing off after realizing Sugawara is having difficulty listening to him through his crying.

It's at this time that Daichi kisses him.

It seems oddly timed and a bit out of the blue, but no one in the room reacts to it. Instead, the dense, deafening silence becomes even thicker.

Daichi and Sugawara's close friendship had always been a just that: a friendship, which up until now, remained platonic, but full of moments that walked the line towards something more. Neither voiced it, neither really deemed it necessary. It went unsaid, but it was clear. There were little gestures here and there, a few caresses and smiles saved for when they were alone that sometimes slipped when they were with close friends. But the _whole world_ is deteriorating around them, and Daichi and Sugawara know what their priorities are. Everyone _else _comes first.

_The priority is to protect everyone else._

Daichi knocks his cheek on Suga's uninjured one, his fists gently lacing through soft, silver locks of hair. He takes a moment to look at Sugawara, then gives him a strained, but confident smile.

Daichi releases him.

"Just in case." Daichi replies, even though Suga does not question the kiss. Asahi and Noya are both looking away in slight embarrassment, both in effort to give them privacy, though neither are surprised by the development.

Sugawara knows Daichi's words are resonant with the inevitability that this is the last time he will see them and that he _will_ most likely die.

"D-Don't die," Sugawara asserts instead, gasping slightly for breaths, even though he knows Daichi cannot grant this wish with certainty. He is still crying, but he is trying to be strong for everyone else. "Don't die…" He reiterates, with a doleful expression that replaces his traditionally kind and easygoing features. Sugawara lifts his fist, pressing it firmly into Daichi's chest—as he often did from time to time to encourage the other. He does so with much less force than it usually would have, but it is enough to validate his confidence in Daichi.

He keeps his fist there, shutting his eyes.

"_Don't you _dare_ die_."

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><p><strong>AN 1:** There are two of us collaborating on this story. Two brainstorms, one writer, one beta! I just want to say that we do both know the themes of the actual Hunger Games series, but chose to add a little romance to our story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as much as we enjoy working on it! Thank you! : )

**A/N2:** Augh, first chapters are always the most difficult—but here is prologue one of two! Thank you in advance for reading it! I just wanted to put out there that this story will play out to focus more on the Haikyuu characters themselves. So instead of Hunger Games being fit into the world of Haikyuu, (as in, forcing Peeta, Katniss, etc. to be a certain character) it's more geared to the Hunger Games fitting into the world of Haikyuu (characters will be written as per their personalities, and their actions will not be exclusive to Peeta, or Katniss, etc.)— if that makes sense. There will be parts that follow the book, others more likely the movie; it depends on what we like better. We've made a few changes as well~! From the start, two tributes can win as long as they are from the same district. The two tributes can be both male, both female, or one male and one female. Everything is taken from one giant vase. Volunteers take precedence. There will also be other changes to their surroundings, events occurring, etc. In addition, _everyone_ is fair game—just because we're writing District Karasuno to be the main characters, it doesn't mean they are exempt from anything. :3

Also, I'd like to say that sadly, there will be no Tanaka in this story. There's a reason for that, but that's a secret. (The same goes for any other "main" characters in the world of Haikyuu that aren't mentioned.) 3

Thank you again for taking the time to read it! We hope you all enjoy!  
>(And a great thank you to my BETAthe other mastermind of this story! uvu)

_P.S. This story will also be available on archive of our own~! :3_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: We do not own Haikyuu! or the Hunger Games.

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><p><strong>2. Kageyama, Tobio<strong>

_He shivers uncontrollably, curling his body forward to retain what little bit of warmth he has left. He's managed to capture something small in the forest— enough, maybe, for him and his family to consume and ration for the next few days._

_During this time of year,__the less wealthy, more impoverished side of the district (everyone was poor, but the level of poverty varied) does its best to rally together, to share what little resources they have to combat the bone-chilling, unforgiving winter. Kageyama has always scowled at the notion of 'rallying' together, turning his chin up defiantly at the mere mention of the subject. Sure, they say they'll share clothes, share food, but it's not like they ever do—because they often don't. It really isn't a matter of being a liar or going back on your word— it's just that when the time finally comes and you see the immense suffering of your_ own_ family, it's difficult to lay focus on anyone else._

_In any case, he can't believe it. In this poor village, one where people can barely make ends meet, the dumbass is still a shining beacon of __oblivious light. Hinata is running from tree to tree, at a gifted, crazy speed, doing what he can to help in this freezing cold— because before the winter had even started—the dumbass had already promised to go into the forest to find bits of wood and kindling. Kageyama knows this, and thinks Hinata is an idiot for taking on a task that is both time-consuming and dangerous._

_He is watching now, watching Hinata dig through the frozen, snowy ground, searching for pieces of wood that aren't completely saturated in ice water. Hinata's fingers are turning blue from the cold and Kageyama swears he can see bits of ice form around Hinata's trembling mouth. Hinata's lips are now a bright red and his neck is hunched deep into his thin jacket. After a few moments and no wood to show for it, Hinata pouts indignantly at the snow, brushing himself off before pushing himself up into a standing position._

_"Ah, Kageyama." Hinata notes upon his arrival. Hinata tilts his head in question, then sees the small animal over Kageyama's shoulder. "Hunting?"_

_"Dumbass," Kageyama replies, ignoring his question. Kageyama begins to rub his own arms in attempt to keep warm before shifting and regarding Hinata fully. He then opens his mouth to say in a strong, reprimanding and unintentionally condescending tone, "if you stay out here, you'll freeze to death. There isn't any medicine if you—"_

_Hinata is rustling now, in a small rucksack he seems to have brought to keep the wood in. Kageyama stiffens, because the dumbass isn't even __listening to him._

_"Hey—" Kageyama begins, in an angrier tone, his scowl deepening. He doesn't even know why he's wasting time here. _If the dumbass wants to freeze to death, then…

_"Here." Hinata says, interrupting his thoughts. "The wood that's for you and your family."_

_Kageyama is taken aback, fumbling with his hands, reaching them out awkwardly, as if not knowing what to do. He takes the wood, of course, he'd be stupid not to. He needs anything that will help battle this horrible winter._

_The next thing he knows, Hinata is jumping at some ungodly height, trying to reach into a tree. "There's probably some drier wood up here!"_

_Kageyama looks towards the left, noting the path he used to enter the forest. He and Hinata were in the shallower side of the forest, the side away from the chain-linked fence. He takes a moment to gaze over at Hinata, who would have seemed to have boundless amounts of energy, if not for his shaking knees and numbing fingertips. Scowling, Kageyama opens his own rucksack, carefully putting the small animal and the pieces of wood inside._

_Hinata was always like this. It could very well be the coldest winter, Hinata could be struggling to find __anything for his family, but he would always manage to find something for someone else._

_"Dumbass," Kageyama starts again, in his usual tone. "Is the cold making you even more of an idiot than usual?"_

_Hinata frowns when he touches the ground after jumping high into a tree that yielded nothing. He makes a small, guttural sound of distaste before turning to Kageyama to yell something back with his fists up and clenched for emphasis. "You jerk—"_

_"Try this one," Kageyama interrupts. His tone is no less demanding than it was before, but he is now pointing up at a tree that has significantly less snow with a birds nest settled inside of it. He doesn't even know why he's wasting time and helping Hinata. Still, he glances over at the orange-haired boy and shrugs. "…There should be some dry wood here."_

_And the dumbass smiles, forgetting that he was even angry to begin with, running over to Kageyama and persisting to keep his dumb promise to do __his part to help the village, because that's just what Hinata does._

_And what's more?_

_Kageyama doesn't even know or understand what possesses him to stay, but he does._

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><p>He is standing there, wholly unsure of himself, right next to Daichi. He doesn't know how this mess of events came to be, but he is the second tribute, and he will be the one to join Daichi in the Hunger Games. The scowl on his face continues to persist, despite Takeda's smiling and attempting to shake his hand.<p>

"There we have it," the so-called fashionable man with glasses states, "our two tributes for—"

"Wait!"

Takeda takes a moment to squint over at the crowd, looking for the owner of the disembodied voice. He tilts his head gradually from left to right, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching. "I volunteer too!" The voice states, and soon, Kageyama sees a small hand rise up in the middle of a crowd. He cannot see who it is and for a moment the owner of the voice does not even register—until he sees a small puff of orange hair.

His eyes grow wide in disbelief.

Takeda is positively bursting at this point and his eyes are glistening in anticipation. "_**T-Two**_ volunteers?! Why…this… this is absolutely _unheard_ of!" Delightedly, he peers over the edge of the stage as the boy finally emerges from the crowd. Takeda cranes his face forward to better inspect the volunteer, before he jerks back in surprise at how much smaller the volunteer is compared to the prior chosen tributes. Still, Takeda is grinning and he beckons Hinata up. "Please, come up—"

Kageyama's mouth is opening and closing at this point, but he is not able to form words.

Hinata is walking slowly but deliberately, looking down at the dirt, with his hands nestled deep inside his ripped pant pockets. No peacekeepers surround on either side because he is going willingly. He chances a glance at Kageyama, and this is what seems to stir Kageyama out of his transient shock.

Once Hinata reaches the top step, everything comes crashing down on Kageyama at once. He thrusts his arm out to grab Hinata aggressively by the collar.

"Ngh—bastard—" Hinata flails, wiggling in his grasp, "what are you trying to—" Hinata gasps between words and pushes at Kageyama to release him, but Kageyama maintains his grip, even though his grip is beginning to shake.

Hinata observes his faltering grip, then looks up at him in surprise. In all his years of knowing Kageyama, practically his entire life, he'd never seen Kageyama show any signs of weakness.

Takeda stumbles back at the sudden display of violence, distancing himself from the now turned precarious situation. "A-ah, wait!"

"No," Kageyama says fiercely to Hinata, ignoring the escort. He is staring at Hinata now, eyes glazed with shock, anger, and desperation. "You CAN'T—" His arm is forcefully twisted, pulling at aching, shaking muscles. Kageyama winces in pain and is pried off Hinata as the peacekeepers unceremoniously hurl him from the stage and onto the ground.

Kageyama grimaces as the rough patches scrape across his face, feeling the instant sting of the abrasions. Despite this, he pushes himself up nonetheless, preparing himself to fight back. This time, the peacekeepers are readying their weapons, as if sensing more than a minor disturbance from him.

Takeda waves his hand again, calling off the peacekeepers. "Don't harm him," he says, in a loud, commanding tone that no one in town had heard from him all day. Takeda's glasses are askew from his brief stumble from the scene, but his position of dominance is not even slightly affected. "Someone has volunteered for him, now leave him be."

Responding, the peacekeepers lower their weapons and instead decide to drag Kageyama over to a corner, tying his arms tightly behind his back until the ceremony is over.

"And what's your name?" Takeda starts gently, as if speaking to a child, the previous rigid look on his face melting away. Hinata bristles, but answers the question swiftly and confidently. "Hinata! Shouyou Hinata."

Kageyama scowls because _he_ wouldn't have answered Takeda. He wouldn't even spare the stupid man a glance.

Takeda nods, smiling in the affirmative, looking over at the crowd once more while raising his hands. "I give you, this year's tributes for the 74th Hunger Games, Sawamura Daichi and Hinata Shouyou!"

"Happy Hunger Games!" Takeda pauses to shut his eyes in elation, before letting out a grin that seems too large for his face to finally surface. "…And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

There is a ring of strangled cries and sobs in the crowd, and Kageyama notices Hinata wince and turn his head away, eyes focused on a certain area in the mass of villagers. Kageyama follows Hinata's gaze and sees Hinata's younger sister, still not old enough for the reaping, held tightly by her mother while she clutches at her lion doll, crying violently.

..

.

* * *

><p>Hinata has his back turned when Kageyama enters the visiting quarters. Hinata's shoulders are tight and he is slightly hunched forward. He may not be shaking, but Kageyama can easily sense Hinata's unease.<p>

He shoves the door forward so his presence is known, scowling deeply, much more than normal. After a few seconds, the worn door clashes into the wall with a resounding _boom _andits metal hinge clangs in response_._

"K-Kageyama!" reprimands a voice in the room. Kageyama does not listen, nor does he care who it comes from. All he can think about is how _frustrated _he is.

His dark, midnight blue eyes are fixed on Hinata, who by now has made hesitant eye contact with him as well.

"_Hinata_", Kageyama vocalizes, in a quiet, but austere tone. He cannot help it if his voice is laced with every emotion he feels—he can't _hide_ the frustration he feels.

Hinata frowns and blindly takes a step back towards the window as Kageyama rapidly makes his way to him. Hinata feels the rim of the window behind his back and he purses his lips stubbornly as if readying himself to be scolded. Kageyama is angry, so full of turbulent, tempestuous emotion that as he grits his teeth, he is almost shaking with fury. He figures that Hinata must notice this, because his eyes widen and he almost cowers instinctively, in attempt to stave off Kageyama's bout of anger.

Once directly in front of the smaller boy, Kageyama slowly unclenches his fists and yanks Hinata to him, hugging him, _embracing _him as tight as he can. Hinata feels paralyzed and stiff in Kageyama's arms, but Kageyama takes no heed of this.

"K-Kageyama…" Hinata's voice is surprised, but small. It is evident that his previous emotional wall of nerve and certainty is beginning to break down. Hinata is trying to be strong and take hold of the situation. Kageyama knows what he is thinking. _He is smaller than most. His chances are…_

Kageyama shuts his eyes for a second, tightens the embrace, then turns his head and gently brushes his cheek against Hinata. Kageyama loosens his hold on him, but instead of pulling away, he firmly locks his hands on Hinata's shoulders. Hinata is afraid. He is looking down at his feet and his lower eyelashes are darkening at their roots because tears are brimming around them and threatening to descend.

Kageyama knows they only have a few minutes, so immediately; he makes do with the situation.

"You're quick, Hinata." Again, Kageyama shuts his eyes, pausing to emphasize his words. The tone of Kageyama's voice hasn't weakened; it is both intimidating and assertive. "You can jump. _Stay_ on your toes and _be_ alert." Hinata flinches, straightening up as if responding to the authority in Kageyama's voice.

At this, Kageyama relaxes, his shoulders moving downwards as he speaks again softly, his tone changing completely, eyes open again, steady as they stare into Hinata's. "…Okay?"

Hinata, who otherwise was stiff and motionless, begins to perk up. His eyes are suddenly full of energy and he smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, as if embarrassed. "You really think that?"

Even in these kinds of circumstances, the dumbass is still easy to read. The compliments are settling in and Hinata is beginning to feel a spark of confidence surge through him. Kageyama can see this as Hinata's face continues to brighten, albeit only little by little. Kageyama is now to pulling away because Hinata is beginning to bounce and shuffle from foot to foot.

But then quickly and abruptly, Hinata kisses him.

It is neither soft nor romantic; instead, tight-lipped, awkward, and unsure. Their lips are pressing together simultaneously, cold with fear, but warm with the sensation of determination and hope. Kageyama clenches his fists by his sides in realization of the smaller one's actions.

He then leans into Hinata, until their foreheads are pressing against each other. They are close enough that when they finally open their eyes, they can see can both see bits of orange and black in front of their eyes. Slowly, he reaches his fingers up to Hinata's soft, unruly hair, clasping them tightly (but nowhere near tight enough to hurt the other).

Kageyama sighs heavily and irresolutely. "I know you." Kageyama says softly, seemingly jolting Hinata from the trance of what just occurred.

"I want to yell at you for taking my place." He starts, with the same, severe tone he always adopts. At this, the smaller one pouts.

"And as much as I want to smack you for it…" The volume of his voice begins to rise and his scowl becomes even more daunting.

Hinata bites his own bottom lip, continuing to pout stubbornly, raising his head, ready to dispute. Aware of this, Kageyama tenderly nudges his forehead against Hinata's to silence him wordlessly.

"…But I know… I know doing that won't change your mind. So good luck out there, all right?" Slowly, Kageyama unclenches his fists and hugs him again. There are a few more things exchanged between the two before the peacekeepers slam the door open, causing Hinata to hastily glance up at Kageyama, nodding and ready to go. Kageyama steps forward. "I'll take care of your family. I'll make sure Natsu eats. Don't worry about them." He waits, making sure Hinata nods to affirm that he had heard him.

Once Hinata reaches the exit of the room, he briefly stops. He turns his head to look back at Kageyama, then grins, affixing him with a 'thumbs up' before rushing after Daichi. "I know you just said it, but don't forget to take care of Natsu, mom and dad!"

Kageyama stumbles at the random action, but is somehow not surprised. Of course the dumbass would exit like that.

Hinata calls Daichi from a distance. And even though Hinata cannot see it, Kageyama nods.

* * *

><p>..<p>

.

Kageyama can sense eyes on his back. When he feels a hand gingerly touch his shoulder, he flinches, effectively and unintentionally causing the hand to pull away.

He turns his head to see Yamaguchi and Tsukishima eyeing at him in silence. He is unsure of whose hand was on his shoulder, but the taller of the two looks away and awkwardly pulls his hand up to his own head, running his fingers through his blond hair. He is wearing a deep frown and looking towards the corner of the room.

It's obvious he is looking for the right for words to say, but is at a loss for them.

"…I'm sorry," Tsukishima offers awkwardly, but sincerely, in a completely monotone voice. He stands for a moment, looking at Kageyama with a stare similar to Kageyama's own naturally grim one, then promptly exits with Yamaguchi (who pipes up a gentle _"He'll be okay!"_) behind him.

Kageyama is standing there now, alone.

He grimaces, berating himself, feeling instant regret—because it may very well be the last time he'll ever see Hinata— and he could not even ask him to come home safely or even outright_ thank _him for what he did.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this so far. Please feel free to leave any kind of feedback! It really encourages us to keep writing! Here is Prologue Part 2! From this point on, the chapters will be longer. Despite Daichi and Hinata not being in contact with everyone else back at the district, there will still be interaction and relationship development, so don't worry, you'll see! Thank you again for the support! We appreciate it!<p>

PS- I had to repost because when I uploaded, some of the formatting got jumbled up. Thank you very much to those that reviewed~ (Maiden Warrior!), it means alot to us and it makes us very happy! /sends you virtual hugs ;u;


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** We don't own the Hunger Games, or Haikyuu.  
><em><strong>Author's Note [M]<strong>: _Chapter 3! We've looked over this chapter like 10 times please take it away!

[_Reminder:_ This story may or may not follow with the Hunger Games story setting, plot, etc. There will be differences found throughout the story to fit more with the Haikyuu! world. Thank you in advance for reading!]

* * *

><p>3. <strong>Hinata, Shouyou<strong>

_There he is. Kageyama's back is turned to Hinata and he is bent down on the forest floor making patterns with a tree branch. The reaping occurred last week, but right now, Hinata and Kageyama are just barely eight years old. Hinata knows what the reaping is about, but it doesn't really sink in. He knows that children are picked by the Capitol to participate in something called the "Hunger Games", and that bad things happened when a child was chosen. He knows that those children almost never returned home and that it scared him to turn twelve, all because of some kind of price to pay for a rebellion that happened years before he or even his parents were born. But right now, all he is concerned with is the awesome game that he had just played with the other boy._

_He was new at it, but the older kids, like Sugawara and Daichi, had taught him the basic rules. Sugawara was the one who came up with the idea first. He said that his father and mother both casually played volleyball when they were little and he thought that after they all finished their chores, it would be a good way to alleviate some of the stress and heavy depression in the area. They wouldn't have much time to play, what with everyday tasks and other looming responsibilities, but still, it was something._

.

_It was fun. Their "volleyball net" was actually an old, tattered fishing net, and they drew lines with branches they found into the ground to mimic the lines of a court, much like what the boy squatting in front of him was doing, absently drawing a picture into the dirt._

_Even the older children seemed to notice Kageyama's talent. More often than not, the game was over before Hinata could really enjoy, because Kageyama, even though he was still young, always ruled the court. Sure, most of the ones standing on either side could barely bump, set, spike or even underhand serve. They were all inexperienced, all too small to reach the top of the fishing net; with an old, ratty ball that was partially flat and becoming heavy. It hurt their arms to play with it and the ball didn't float quite right, but that didn't matter to any of them._

_Hinata grins, running over to where Kageyama is crouching—choosing to crouch beside him. Kageyama's eyes widen in surprise, but he says nothing, returning his gaze downward and continuing to draw an image into the ground._

_"Is it a volleyball?" Hinata asks excitedly, shuffling his feet, looking for a branch for him to use as well._

_"Y-Yeah." Kageyama answers hesitantly. He seems a bit shy to Hinata, but nice. Hinata shrugs indifferently, because shy people never bothered him._

_"We'll play again, okay?" Hinata starts, waving his arms excitedly. He finds a small, stubby stick, using it to haphazardly draw a net next to Kageyama's volleyball. "And then I'll beat you," Hinata says excitedly, "and I'll be the last one standing!"_

_Kageyama smiles a bit, seemingly thrilled about the idea of playing again. His eyes fall down to the pictures they've drawn, his small smile tugging more at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe."_

_"Maybe?" Hinata responds, wrinkling his nose. "We definitely will! I'll get my chores done extra early tomorrow, okay? We can practice together!"_

_...They actually _did so_ the next day._

_They also practiced together the day after, the day after that and the day after that. Before they knew it, it had been two years since they had started._

_They found a sort-of schedule for them to meet and play, even if it was only the two of them and even though their schedules sometimes didn't allow for it. They found a place that wasn't crowded with people, a place somewhat private and tucked away, but not so hidden that they would never be found if need be. Sugawara and Daichi consistently warned them not to play in town, where they would be seen easily. Hinata wasn't sure why, because they weren't doing anything wrong, but he suspected it had something to do with the men that sometimes inhabited their village, the ones in white, shiny plastic-like suits. In any case, it was the place where they could take a breath, even as children, from their harsh, severe surroundings._

_It was something they could look forward to, even though the village was boring and they were always hungry. People were often getting sick and many were losing hope. It wasn't rare to see a man being beaten, beaten so hard that his screams echoed throughout the town, a child collapsing from malnutrition, with those around often ignoring the child and walking around them, or for someone to just suddenly disappear. These were things that even Hinata's eight year old mind could comprehend as frightening and paralyzing._

_Because of volleyball, Hinata and Kageyama had something they could actually smile about._

.

_It wasn't long after that two year stretch when a peacekeeper had run into them and decided to take the volleyball. There wasn't any reason to confiscate it, but peacekeepers often enjoyed being cruel just to __be cruel. Hinata didn't understand it. Why did the peacekeepers treat them like that? They did their work, their chores, and no one did anything against the Capitol. The ones before them were the ones who rebelled against the Capitol, so why did they constantly have to pay the price?_

_The peacekeeper had laughed, mocking the two, pointing a gloved finger at their faces. Kageyama was around ten at the time, but he wasn't afraid, not one little bit. He charged towards the peacekeeper yelling, looking desperate, and telling him to give the ball back._

_The peacekeeper took the end of his rifle and slammed it violently into Kageyama, and Hinata swore he heard a loud crack as it made contact with Kageyama's forehead, watching as the peacekeeper caused him to suddenly hurl into the ground. Hinata felt something in him snap, and he ran in front of Kageyama instinctively, stretching his arms out to defend him. "Leave him alone!" Hinata screamed, with eyes watering but teeming full of resolve. It didn't matter that the peacekeeper was armed with a gun and that he could shoot Hinata at any moment. It didn't matter that Hinata knew he shouldn't stand up to a peacekeeper. He ignored all the stories he'd heard from all the other children and the grown-ups. His main goal was to protect Kageyama, and in his ten year old mind, that was the most important._

_In a split second, Hinata was on the ground, with his cheek was burning with a numbing, tingling sensation. He feels Kageyama shift beneath him, shaking slightly, and Hinata thinks he saw the peacekeeper take a step forward._

_Hinata crawls over in a half-dazed state from the blow to the face, situating himself in front of Kageyama again, spreading his arms out to protect him. "I said leave him alone!"_

_The peacekeeper is surprised, but laughs at this. He must be in a good mood, because he doesn't hit Hinata again with the end of his gun. He doesn't even flinch at Hinata's insubordination; he just seemed amused at the scene playing out in front of him. It must have been amusing to the peacekeeper, seeing two ten year old boys pining over an old, near unusable volleyball. The peacekeeper bounces the volleyball in his hand, then smirks. He puts his rifle aside, walks over to a nearby cliff and mercilessly throws the ball over._

_Hinata scratches at the ground, tensely running his fingers through the dirt, biting his bottom lip as he listens to the sound of the ball descending down the slope. The default area Kageyama and Hinata had chosen to play in was situated near a steep hill in the forest, where the ground suddenly dipped into a sharp precipice-like slope. There was a small river at the bottom of the cliff, but no one ever attempted to get anywhere near it since going down the sloping hill was incredibly risky. There were sharp roots, edges of trees, boulders and other dangerous things that went unseen by the human eye._

_But then Hinata had heard a splash, and he knew the ball was gone and that they had no way of ever reaching it again._

_"Go fetch." The peacekeeper taunts, exposing a toothy grin. He then leaves Hinata and Kageyama in the dirt, but not before turning his head, and spitting in their general direction._

_Hinata looks down at Kageyama, gently, but awkwardly putting his hand on the other's shoulder. Hinata feels depressed in light of the circumstances, but he's happy they're both still okay. Kageyama, however—flinches._

_"K-Kageyama", Hinata starts, "We'll—"_

_Hinata saw a flash of Kageyama's midnight blue eyes as he trembled, his hands clutching the cold ground beneath him. He could see how glazed and red the whites of Kageyama's eyes were, how his lower lip shook, and how Kageyama winced, craning his head up to stare hard at the cliff where the volleyball had just been thrown off, like nothing but a piece of garbage. _

_Seconds after, Hinata noticed that Kageyama's eyes were different._  
><em>The life had left them.<em>

_They were empty._

_Kageyama pushes himself up and off the ground quickly, wipes his face, and without looking back, runs home, with defeat plastered all over his features._

.

_Kageyama was never the same after that. He didn't smile, and he wasn't the same Kageyama that Hinata played with for years before. The shy Kageyama that worked so incredibly hard to finish his chores just so he could spend a few minutes to play with Hinata was gone. The happy Kageyama, the one that only fully came to surface the moment they played volleyball had disappeared._

_Kageyama's personality grew worse as the years went by, enduring several deaths, several reapings and several cruel peacekeepers until his personality morphed into what it is now. His hatred and attitude towards the Capitol only grew, and it never ever stopped growing._

_Hinata had approached him once, finally deciding to question him on the matter. Kageyama never gave him a straight answer, never __really explained anything to him. All he said was: "The last ones standing are the victors. Only the strongest. If you want to be the last one standing, become strong."_

_And with that, he left._  
>They never played volleyball again.<p>

* * *

><p>He steps lightly, uncertainly onto the train that supposedly transferred them to the Capitol. Hinata is trailing close behind Daichi, like a child hurriedly following after his father. He is bowing his head and peaking around the bigger male because at the moment— he feels protected and more secure with Daichi in front. As expected, his gestures around Daichi do nothing to help him in procuring any kind of idea of what his new surroundings are, because he cannot see anything from this angle, just the backside of the escort. (<em>Takeda<em>, he thinks his name was, if he was remembering correctly.) It didn't quite help that Hinata's eyes were naturally drawn to all the colors on Takeda's person, iridescent greens and blues—not to mention his goldenrod, turquoise flecked hair.

Hinata can sense his stomach churning, rumbling in uneasiness as he grimaces at the situation. His fists are sweaty and clammy and he feels inexplicably cold, no matter how much he coils into his jacket to relieve it. It isn't until the moment his feet touch the plush, bouncy carpet, that he instantly forgets all present ailments and pauses in awe at the sight in front of him.

"Uwoooooooah…" He breathes, unable to form coherent thought. They are surrounded in total _luxury_, things that he couldn't even begin to dream about in his wildest imagination. He blinks slowly, trying to process his surroundings, mouth agape, and gingerly, though not realizing it, takes hold of Daichi's sleeve.

Takeda proceeds to show them around the train car, waving his hands somewhat theatrically at the extravagant surroundings— the bright, opulent, heavily detailed chairs and the long, glossy wood tables filled to excess with food, all arranged in intricate, delicate ways. Hinata's eyes stay affixed to the table for several minutes, because in his entire life, he had never seen such an abundance of food just waiting to be devoured. There is an immense chandelier hanging over in the area Takeda designates the "sitting area", with various colored jewels hanging down it, glistening in the light. Takeda is now gesturing towards the designs and carvings that are on the table, emphasizing how magnificent and unique each one is. He seems _unbelievably _excited about it all; even though Hinata cannot imagine _why, _because Takeda is a citizen and must be used to such extravagancies. Still, Takeda's eyes continue to sparkle in revelry while he simultaneously clutches at his chest. Upon closer inspection, after of course getting over the initial shock of it all, everything now just seemed _stupidly_ and needlessly shiny.

Hinata peers over at the overdramatic escort, observing him from head to toe. Hinata mutters incoherently to himself, pouting deeply, again coiling up into his jacket.

This guy is definitely the dramatic type. Is this how _everyone_ is in the Capitol…?

Although barely a few minutes have passed, Hinata is already struggling to listen. His head is swirling, though his eyes and mind are desperately processing everything around him. He cannot comprehend what the apparent "big deal" was about a table that had carvings and designs on it—a table was a table. To him, it was an unbelievable waste of time having to painstakingly create such details, time that could be preciously utilized elsewhere, to help others in the district.

Why do you even _need_ to have designs on tables? As long as you can eat on the table, it should be okay, right? _Actually_, as long as you can _eat,_ period, it should be okay. The table is optional.

Hinata is now investigating the corners of everything, now gaining slightly more confidence and pulling away from Daichi, although he makes sure to remain within a foot of him. He notes that this train car seems endless and that he wants to explore it all, but his stomach is grumbling and he (and his nose) still cannot believe the surplus of food in this room alone.

"Oh, we'll also be going _two-hundred miles_ per hour, and believe me; you'll barely be able to feel a thing!" The escort nearly shrieks in delight, but thankfully, is able to contain himself.

_Two hundred miles? _Hinata nearly crosses his eyes in disbelief, tilting his head at the escort and waiting for him to take it back, assuming he had been japing all along about the matter. Takeda doesn't recant his words. Instead, he continues on to describe how pleased he is about something called 'crown molding'. Hinata thinks that he saw Daichi roll his eyes at this, and by the time Takeda is done, Daichi's hands are crossed tightly against his chest.

Anyway, Hinata can barely wrap his head around all the _food_ around them, let alone _two hundred miles an hour_. He didn't care about 'crown molding', whatever it was (even though secretly he had pictured the mold that grew on rotting materials, adorned with crowns).

"It's all just absolutely wonderful, isn't it?" Takeda turns to them, smiling cheerfully, swishing his hair back and unintentionally making the turquoise flecks in his hair shine even brighter. "Think about it. Even though you're here, and even though it's only for a little while," Hinata grimaces anxiously at this, clutching his stomach. "You'll be able to enjoy all of _this_." Takeda is now animatedly gesticulating at everything in the room, looking back at them at certain intervals in attempt to enthuse them as well. Obviously, it didn't work, not that the escort had noticed. "Quite different from back home, don't you agree?"

Daichi is outright emotionless throughout Takeda's excessive, uninteresting monologue, but he smiles gently at Hinata when he notices his discomfort. He moves closer to Hinata, closing the space between them, nudging him in the shoulder comfortingly. Hinata smiles.

It _does_ comfort Hinata to be paired up with Daichi, and it makes him feel relatively relieved, in light of the circumstances. Daichi may not have been as forthcoming as Sugawara, and he does seem a bit more strict_, _but Daichi was always nice and completely reliable. The nice, supportive kind.

"I'm going to get Keishin," Takeda states, beginning to stride away from them, but not before regarding an ornate vase on a pedestal. He sighs to himself, suddenly seeming weary. "He's probably in the bar car…"

K-Keishin?  
>He must've been speaking aloud, because Daichi promptly answers. "Probably our mentor."<p>

That's right. Hinata can feel the rush of apprehension overwhelm him again, although this time, instead of feeling paralyzed and cold, his body straightens and he pursing his lips determinedly, in a mix of nervous excitement and resolve. The mentor was _sure_ to help them get through this. The mentor's goal was supposed to teach them how to win this, because _he_ had won it once before. It _wasn't_ impossible. He and Daichi really could make it back home.

Daichi's eyes slowly shift over at Hinata, and he notices that Hinata is getting pumped up, bouncing lightly on his feet. Without saying anything, he walks over to the table, picks up (of all the extravagant things set out on it) a plain loaf of bread, then hands it to Hinata.

"Eat," He says softly, smiling amiably at the small, orange headed boy. "You'll feel better."

Hinata nods rapidly, accepting the proffered bread before shutting his eyes in sheer bliss the moment the bread had touched his tongue. He hasn't had bread in almost a year. That is, he hasn't had bread that hadn't gone stale or had been thrown into the garbage first.

It's during the time he is swallowing when the car door abruptly makes a sound, sliding open and signifying that someone is entering.

It _isn't_ Takeda.

The man has blond hair, clearly unnatural, because his dark roots were showing at the edges of his ears. The color seemed more 'natural' in application though, because it didn't glimmer or have a plastic-like sheen like Takeda's. Simply put, it looked like normal hair. It spiked up in the back, held down in the front with a headband of sorts. He is dressed in lavish clothing, a crisp, white collared shirt and nice pants, though absolutely nothing eccentric in color like Takeda. Despite his expensive clothing, he still looked sloppy and unkempt, his shirt wrinkled and barely buttoned down. When he turns his back to them, Hinata and Daichi can see how it spills over his pants where it isn't tucked in properly. The man barely spares them a glance, sauntering over to the liquor table.

Hinata stares over at him, mutely watching as he takes another large bite out of his bread. The room is silent, with the exception of his chewing and noises of content. The man, their mentor, had just walked in with a slight sway in his gait_ and_ a cigarette in his mouth. Hinata thinks he looks…drunk... and _sketchy,_ for lack of a better word.

_Is this guy really their mentor?_

* * *

><p>Hinata glimpses up at Daichi for some kind of indication of how he should react. He is relieved because Daichi's stoic expression does not change, and it seems their mentor's disheveled appearance doesn't deter him. This reignites a newfound eagerness in Hinata, who is now keen to just get on with it.<p>

Once their mentor takes a seat, Hinata follows zealously, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of him. "Are you our mentor?" He asks immediately, leaning his arms up onto the table, forgetting about introductions.

The man looks up a little, pouring the alcohol into a large glass, embossed with some kind of feather-like pattern. He finally speaks, although his voice is slightly distorted due to the cigarette in his mouth. "Ukai Keishin." He pauses, then adds as an afterthought, with eyes barren of emotion, "Congratulations."

_So I guess he _is_ our mentor!_ Hinata reasons, before grinning to himself and curling up his hands. He conveniently ignores the congratulations, figuring the mentor might not have intended to say it. "I'm Hinata Shouyou and that's Sawamura Daichi!" When there is no response, Hinata continues on. "So what do we—"

"Wait", the man replies, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and settling it between his fingers. He observes it for a moment, rolling it slowly in between his index and middle finger before raising his eyes to them. "Most of you aren't this… eager." His voice remains monotonous, if anything, bored and detached.

Daichi regards him severely, leaning back into his chair, taking in an exasperated breath. Hinata pouts indignantly, pointing accusingly at the man. "Well you're our _mentor_, right? You're supposed to teach us how to win this! You did once, right? I mean—"

Hinata hesitates when a pouring sound interrupts his train of thought.

Ukai is adding more liquor into the glass. What is _with_ this guy?

"You're supposed to give us advice!" Hinata leans in closer from where he is sitting, attempting to close into their mentor as much as humanly possible with the table between them. Ukai still doesn't answer, doesn't even react, and Hinata can feel himself slowly getting frustrated. He gestures wildly between them. "Help us!"

"_Help_ you?" Ukai replies, as if surprised by the plea. He chuckles, then glances back over to the liquor table he approached earlier.

Hinata frowns. "Yeah—"

"Hmmm," Ukai muses for an instant, seeming to find something humorous. He then looks up at Hinata with his dark, glazed over eyes. "Oookay, I'll give you some advice." He replies, lifting his drink to his lips, swirling it lightly before taking another sip. "Embrace the probability of your imminent death…"

Affronted, Hinata opens his mouth to retort, but Ukai smirks and leans towards him, almost provokingly— breath laced with both alcohol and nicotine.

"And know _in your heart_, that there's nothing I can do to save you."

Hinata is gaping, rendered speechless by his blunt, scathing response. Daichi is calm, _too_ calm, Hinata thinks, and he is leaning back even more in his chair, crossing his arms firmly. Daichi responds instead of Hinata. "So what are you even here for?"

Ukai smiles confrontationally at him. His glass is emptied already—again—and he is now raising the cigarette up to his lips, taking a long, slow swig. He makes an 'o' with his lips and breathes out leisurely. The smoke gradually begins to travel over to Hinata and Daichi, assaulting their noses with the overpowering smell of nicotine. Hinata scrunches up his nose, flails in attempt to cover it and then coughs involuntarily. Daichi remains unaffected.

"The refreshments, of course." Ukai answers simply, flourishing a hand up for emphasis. His voice is again muffled because he had put the cigarette back into his mouth.

This seems to be the last straw for Daichi, because the next thing Hinata knows, there is a sudden flash of movement. Daichi is reaching over angrily— maybe to throttle Ukai— or maybe just take his bottle away, Hinata isn't so sure.

He realizes then that Ukai has extraordinarily quick reflexes because there is another flash before Hinata sees Ukai's bare foot (what, the guy isn't even wearing _shoes_?) on Daichi's chest to impede him from advancing. Ukai has the cigarette resting between his teeth, staring up at Daichi with an unimpressed look, as if Daichi's actions had caused him nothing but a mere inconvenience.

"Uwooooahhhh," Hinata responds with a high-pitched tone to his voice, eyes widened in admiration of the mentor's skills.

Ukai grits his teeth, clearly annoyed with the situation and evidently ignoring Hinata's pleased reaction. He turns his head, removing the cigarette from his mouth and again settling it between his fingers. "You made me spill my drink," he says quietly but vehemently to Daichi, "all over my new pants."

Daichi narrows his eyes and looks as if he is about to say something, because his lips are beginning to move. Ukai unceremoniously pushes himself up out of the chair, dusts himself off using the hand holding the cigarette and leaves with a drunken swagger.

Daichi immediately follows after.

* * *

><p>That night, Hinata sleeps in what has to be the most <em>comfortable<em> bed in the world. It isn't sinking down towards the middle, there aren't any strange feeling spots and he can't feel the springs digging sharply into his back. But somehow, this bed and the exorbitant blankets and pillows surrounding him (probably more than ten on this bed alone) seem to suffocate instead of comfort him.

He can't sleep. He stares up at the ceiling, which seems to be engraved with more of those sophisticated designs that Takeda enjoys so much. He wonders if their escort's room was this luxurious, and if it was— how the man or _anyone_ for that matter, could even sleep surrounded by it all. Immediately, Hinata shakes his head free of the thought, not wanting to focus his time on Takeda.

It isn't long before Hinata's mind lazes over to a certain, dark haired individual. He ponders what Kageyama could be doing, or if he'll be watching the Hunger Games when they finally start. He hadn't really noticed Kageyama pay much attention to the games over the years because Kageyama despised anything to do with the Capitol. Hinata scowls when his memory flashes to a time when Kageyama pointedly refused to ever watch the Hunger Games. Kageyama had said he did not want to support it—so he wouldn't be watching, encouraging the event to continue.

Did he still feel that way now?  
>Would he watch because Hinata volunteered for him?<p>

_"The last ones standing are the victors. Only the strongest. If you want to be the last one standing, become strong."_

Was Kageyama talking about the Hunger Games that time? Or was he talking about something else?

Hinata rolled onto his stomach uncomfortably as he scrunched his forehead in confusion. A few seconds later, he is reminded of the hasty kiss he and Kageyama shared—and he finds himself pouting and thinking that maybe he shouldn't have done it after all. Still, it was probably a good thing that he had gone through with it—because he was likely never going to see Kageyama again.

Blushing furiously, he takes his hands and hits both sides of his head, as if trying to get rid himself of the embarrassing memory. When it doesn't work, he narrows his eyes, before sighing and rolling over onto his back and finally sitting up. He cranes his head towards the door and eventually decides to take a small walk, even if he's only going into the car next door. Maybe some movement would do him some good, and hopefully stop his mind from conjuring up more (secretly cherished) memories with Kageyama.

* * *

><p>To his surprise, Daichi is there in the living room car, sitting on the couch, with his feet casually up on that table Takeda was describing earlier. All lights are off, but the windows on either side of them are large and clear enough to allow the moon's rays to wander in, giving the inside of the car a soft, ethereal glow. Aside Hinata, there is a particularly large stained glass window, projecting colored lights on the floor in response to the bright, lunar beams of light. Hinata can still barely feel any movement beneath his feet (it seems Takeda knew what he was talking about), and it makes him grin, hopping over to the other tribute.<p>

"Can I sit?"

Daichi, who seems unphased by his sudden presence, looks up and smiles at him, patting the area next to him. "Can't sleep?" He asks, resting his hands on his lap.

Hinata nods in affirmation, then eyes him curiously. "What about you? You can't either?" Hinata turns, shifting as he makes his way behind the table situated in front of the couch, sitting comfortably next to Daichi.

Daichi chuckles. "This place is so luxurious, it's ridiculous. It makes me nervous."

Hinata smiles excitedly, somehow elated that Daichi had felt the same. He gestures between them, before shaking his head at the surroundings. "Me too!"

Daichi laughs as Hinata wrings his hands, commiserating with him. They talk about their day, all the food they'd been able to eat, and in general, everything _except_ the Hunger Games.

It doesn't take long for them to quiet down, voices replaced by a comfortable, silent lull in the room.

Hinata hesitates, biting his bottom lip, unsure of himself. "Hey Daichi…" He is lifting his legs in an upward then downwards motion, in attempt to release excess energy.

"Mm..?" Daichi has his eyes shut, but it's clear he's listening. His head is craning back on the top of the sofa and now his arms are crossed on his chest. Outwardly, it seems Daichi is completely calm, but his constant position changing is making Hinata wonder if he is feeling more tense than he is letting on.

"Why… did you volunteer for Sugawara..?" His voice is quiet and there's a quality in Hinata's voice that nonverbally tells the other that he doesn't need to answer if he isn't comfortable.

Daichi opens his eyes, but appears unperturbed by the question.

"Hm," he ponders for a second, before side-glancing at Hinata. "Instinct, I suppose. I had a dream he'd be reaped this year. I don't want him to do this." Now, Daichi is rolling his shoulders back. "I'm ready for it, I think. More ready for me to do it than him, anyway."

Hinata sulks at him, feeling like that wasn't a full answer. Still, he doesn't prod. After all, he isn't sure why he felt so strongly about volunteering for Kageyama, only that he needed to protect him. He knew he had strong feelings for Kageyama, but it was confusing and he doesn't want to be questioned about it— at least not yet. He wouldn't have a word for it if he was asked to describe it. So instead, he settles for clumsily scooting over, closer to Daichi.

"…We'll… be okay, right?" Hinata peers upward, turning his face towards Daichi, watching as the moon beams illuminated the sides of Daichi's face. **  
><strong>

Daichi glances over at him and from what Hinata can tell, is trying to be as reassuring as possible. He grins, almost paternally, then ruffles Hinata's messied hair. "…We'll try our best."

* * *

><p>.<p>

..

…

Frowning at the offending light seeping through his windows, Hinata groans and rolls onto his stomach, yanking the blanket over his head. He and Daichi eventually retired to both their rooms after their talk and Hinata was _finally_ able to sleep (after irritatedly throwing all superfluous pillows and blankets onto the floor).

After a few seconds, he cranes his neck to the left, pondering for a moment where he is. The surroundings are unfamiliar and his sister isn't running inside to wake him. When he is hit with groggy realization, he sluggishly sits up, eyes opening to narrow slits because it is too bright to open them fully. Gradually, he makes his way out of his bedroom car, body hunched forward and hair going in all directions, more so than usual. He is dragging his feet and already he feels drained of energy.

Maybe that bed was _too comfortable,_ he thinks, yawning loudly. He literally blacked out last night in complete exhaustion.

Hinata rouses slightly when he hears voices in the other car, remembering with slightly more clarity the events that unfolded yesterday.

"Then you start a fire..?" Even in his bleary, sleepy state, Hinata can hear the unease in Daichi's voice. He lifts his hand to his mouth, covering another yawn threatening to escape, while lazily wondering if Daichi was afraid of fires. No, he couldn't be. He'd seen Daichi before around fires, and he never so much as flinched. Still, the tone in Daichi's voice sounded troubled. Hinata shrugged, not interested or awake enough to keep speculating about it.

Hinata pokes his head into the car and as expected, sees Daichi and Ukai locked in conversation. Ukai currently has a stack of pancakes on his plate and is reaching to grab the syrup to pour liberally onto them.

"You'll die." Ukai responds disinterestedly, running a hand through the ends of his hair. He is already pouring liquor into an even bigger glass than yesterday.

Hinata takes a seat next to Daichi, who nods at him in acknowledgement. Hinata does his best to smile back at Daichi before staring up Ukai. Ukai looks the same as yesterday, but seems to have haphazardly put on a waistcoat. Whatever, Hinata is still too sleepy to understand what they're talking about, but he is trying to listen because of the gravity of the situation.

Hinata opens his mouth to join the conversation. "Why?" He asks, at first more in habit, than actually wanting to know why. He yawns again, this time, rubbing his eyes.

Ukai glances at him, leaning back on his chair, making it squeak from his movements. "You'll bring attention to yourself. The other tributes won't waste such an _easy_ opportunity to kill you."

Hinata is jolted awake when his possible death is mentioned and he quickly grabs some sausage to eat in order to calm himself. When he realizes he hasn't had real meat in what seemed like forever, meat that _hadn't _been half-eaten or near spoiled, his edgy look melts into one of complete bliss. "Wow, this is so good!" He is making guttural sounds of glee, licking his lips with delight.

Ukai narrows his eyes, then smirks. He takes a mouthful of liquor slowly, his opposite hand tapping on the table.

"What do you do then?" Daichi asks, sipping some water out of a golden cup that has gems adorned all over it. Hinata stares at it. Stupid cup. Why do _cups_ need to look like that?

Takeda is sitting in the sofa in front of them and Hinata is surprised he didn't notice him there, since to Hinata, his outfit seems even _more_ ludicrous today. From the back, Hinata can see that he's layered at least four scarves around a high collar that covers more than half the length of Takeda's head. All the scarves are bright, clashing colors created with different types of fabrics. He also seemed to be wearing exaggerated shoulder-pads that matched the style of his collar (a shiny black shade) too. Hinata didn't even want to know what he looked like from the front. His hair was annoyingly bright, today a bright lime green with yellow iridescence.

"Find shelter." Their mentor responds straightforwardly. He seems to be done with his pancakes now, although he hasn't really eaten much. Hinata narrows his eyes at the uneaten food. Ukai is lighting up another cigarette and flipping the lighter in his free hand.

After a few moments of getting himself situated, Hinata's mind has finally dispelled all the foggy, haziness that wrapped around the part of his head that was still shaking off the deep slumber he had been in. That's right. He was reaped. He may never be able to go back home. He looks up at Ukai, now filled with a new kind of determination.

"How do you find shelter?" It sounds like a stupid question, but to Hinata it isn't. He wants to know how to survive. How is he supposed to know where to find shelter? Can he rely on his survival skills? Or will the arena be so different and strange that he can't? What's the best type of shelter to be in? There are so many things being thrown about in Hinata's mind that it made it extremely difficult to concentrate. All Hinata knew was that at this moment, he wanted to know how to find that shelter. He wanted at least _one clue_, _one hint_ to aid in his and Daichi's survival.

"Give me a chance to finish this first." At this point, Ukai has put his lighter down onto the table in favor of his glass. He has the cigarette between his teeth, using his free hand to beckon towards Hinata. "Hand me that bottle behind you." He said as best he could with a cigarette in his mouth.

Hinata narrows his eyes. This guy is something else.

"How _do_ you find shelter?" Hinata asks more forcefully. He is glowering now, although it doesn't register much as a threat.

Ukai rolls his eyes, but does not concede. "_Give me a chance to wake up._" He repeats irately, clucking his tongue. His cigarette has moved to his hand now and he's staring piercingly at Hinata to _hurry the hell up and just grab the damn drink.  
><em>  
>Hinata feels angry all of a sudden, tightening his grip around his fork, before slamming it forcefully into a napkin, effectively cutting down into the table. "Tell me!" Daichi tugs on Hinata's sleeve firmly from under the table to calm him, before giving him a stern look that says, "<em>Now is not the time<em>."

At the same time, from the front of the room, Takeda turns, looking scandalized. His eyes are wide behind his (bejeweled) glasses and he gasps exasperatedly. "That is _mahogany_!"

Hinata feels like a child that's just been reprimanded for being rude and immediately slumps into his chair.

Daichi is right. He shouldn't rile up Ukai and unintentionally make him storm off. They both need as much information as they can get.

"You really want to know how to survive?" Ukai responds heatedly, his brow rising in annoyance. He tightens his fingers around his cigarette as Hinata perks up, straightening in his seat, and this time, Daichi does too.

"You need people to _like you._"

What? Hinata's eyes widen. _Why?_

As if responding to his train of thoughts, Ukai smirks. "Oh, was that not what you expected?" He turns his head to take another swig from his cigarette. "When you're in there… in that arena and you're starving, you're freezing and you're wounded…." He trails off, his eyes looking glazed, as if lost in memory. He shakes his head, pursing his lips and continuing. "A match, medicine, _anything_ can mean the difference between life and death. _Anything._"

Hinata regards him stubbornly, as Daichi looks away in contemplation of Ukai's revelation. His eyes are narrowed slightly, as if conjuring up ideas and plans inside of his head.

"And to _get_ those things," Ukai sighs, turning his head to take a quick swig of his cigarette, "you need sponsors."

"And _how_ do you get sponsors?" Ukai adds, as if mocking Hinata's previous barrage of questions, "you need to get people to _like you enough _to sponsor and send things to the arena to help you out." He shoves his cigarette into a tray on the table, effectively burning it out. Finally, Ukai gets up; swaying over to the aforementioned bottle he wanted Hinata to grab. "And right now," he continues, pouring the liquor into his emptied cup, "you're not off to a real good start."

"Tch," Ukai brings the glass up to his mouth, mumbling as he glared at both Hinata and Daichi. "_One_ tribute from District Four— Aoba Johsai— won because he had _so many_ damn sponsors. Think about it."

Hinata, prior to Ukai's sudden elucidations, had several questions. Now, he has none. He feels deflated, and somewhat weary from Ukai's account. As a result, for the rest of breakfast he sits sullenly, poking at his food stubbornly while Daichi and Ukai talk about strategies once inside the arena.

* * *

><p>..<p>

...

A few hours later, Takeda speaks, straightening up excitedly in his seat. Ukai, seated aside him moves slightly, but is nowhere near as thrilled. "Ah!"

Ukai averts his gaze from the escort, choosing instead to flip his golden lighter backwards and forwards in his hand, as if ignoring the escort's proclamation.

Hinata can tell that there is a smile on Takeda's face, simply from the ecstatic sound of his voice— even if he is not looking up at the man. Hinata's still pouting.

"We're here!"

Daichi rises from the table to gaze out the window. At first, he looks interested, then slightly stunned—if only for a few seconds. Hinata props himself up on his chair, before swinging his feet up and jumping off to follow after Daichi curiously. When he reaches the window, peering out on the tops of his toes, his eyes widen at the sight.

There are people everywhere, almost mob-like, cheering and waving joyously at them. They all appear ridiculous (even _more_ ridiculous than Takeda), all dressed in Capitol Couture. Hinata furrows his brows, not sure of how to react to the sea of clashing colors, wild accessories, odd hairstyles and ostentatious clothing. Even from where he is standing, he can see the fluid movements of the crowds, the dramatic waves and curious eyes (some adorned with oddly shaped eyelashes) all directed at Daichi and him. He felt like a commodity, like a new toy rather than a human being.

Daichi smiles handsomely at the crowd (though Hinata can tell that it is forced) and waves.

The crowd goes _absolutely wild_. A few of them even look like they're passing out from swooning over Daichi. Hinata blinks, glancing at Daichi, before glancing back at the crowd.

"You might want to follow his example more closely now", Ukai states in monotone from the couch, now brandishing a cigarette into the air. "He actually knows what he's doing."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note [K]:<strong> Thank you to everyone who's continued to read and comment to this story this far! Almost every chapter will start with a "premise" of some sort; it could be flashbacks like this one, or just the character's thoughts on relationships. It's just one way we can keep the relationships developing, even if they're not physically together, and it's another way to see what type of world they live in. (Also I personally really love the "That is _mahogany_!" line, as well as the "Imminent death" line in the Hunger Games, so I was really excited to get Ukai and Takeda to do so in this chapter.) The next chapter they will be in the Capitol! ^_^

Thank you again for all your support!  
>Any feedback is appreciated!<br>Have a wonderful day!


	4. Chapter 4

4. **Sawamura, Daichi**

_Daichi chuckles as his companion shudders again, rubbing his pale hands together in a fiercely determined attempt to warm himself. "This is getting ridiculous," Sugawara starts, grimacing as a shot of cool air swishes by them. "The winter came months earlier and now it looks like it's going to stay for good!"_

_Daichi smiles and gazes up at the sky, reveling at the freshness the icy air provided him. He had always liked the crispness of the air during the winter—loved how the winter felt much more liberating than any other season of the year. Compared to the thick—almost suffocating—humid atmosphere the summer provided, the frigid air was a welcome guest._

_He parts his lips, letting out a puff of cold air. "It's December, of course it's still cold."_

_"But it started getting cooler towards the end of July," Sugawara counters, beginning to hunch pathetically. "It's going to be difficult trying to salvage any kind of food, especially if this winter stays."_

_Daichi hums absently in response. Despite every effort to save and gather as much food and meat as possible to help with overall starvation during the harsher seasons, there still wasn't nearly enough to go around. Even though they had begun preparing in early July, there was no increase in the yield of materials gathered._

_As if reading Daichi's thoughts, Sugawara purses his lips. He probably knew there was little chance in garnering much in terms of quantity as well._

_"We'll make it," Daichi assures, lifting his chin marginally, letting the crisp air hit his face more fully. He nudges Sugawara with his shoulder, causing the other to gently sway in response to the action._

_"I know." Sugawara's answer is quick and positive, with no traces of uncertainty. He shuts his eyes, holds his head up just as high as Daichi, with a bright, genuine smile affixing his face. "We always do."_

_Sugawara doesn't have a doubt._  
><em>They never do.<em>

_As the wind continues to pick up, Sugawara begins to curl up even more, hunching so much that it looks like he doesn't have a neck. Daichi grins at the sight and reaches out, stretching a finger to poke at a small sliver of exposed neck that Sugawara isn't able to hide from hunching._

_"Ee!" He jolts, pulling away and glaring up at him. "Daichi!"_

_Daichi laughs whole-heartedly at the sight and almost instantaneously feels a soft jab of retort on his shoulder. "Sorry, sorry." Daichi replies apologetically, though the mischievous grin remains glued on his face. Sugawara has __always been the type to get cold easily, especially around his neck._

_Sugawara narrows his eyes playfully. "You're not sorry at all."_

_Daichi is still grinning. "Nope."_

_It isn't long until Sugawara can no longer pretend to be angry anymore. He smiles too, letting out a small 'hmph'. He rubs his hands together, before turning to regard the view in front of them._

_"It's… nice." Sugawara says, quietly. "That we can still be like this."_

_Daichi pauses, then gazes up at the sky again. Sugawara is right._

_They were heading back from the frozen lake, after haphazardly attempting to go fishing. There was so little food that they decided it wouldn't hurt to try, even though they knew there was scarcely much fish to begin with. They weren't a fishing district by any means._

_Luckily, it wasn't a complete waste of time. They were able to catch about three small fish after having spent several hours at the lake._

_Even in times like this, when hunger and starvation is imminent, they still managed to steal a few moments of happiness._

.

_It was almost completely dark now, even though it wasn't very late. Daichi glances at Sugawara as a quiet air of silence slowly engulfs them. Sugawara's shivering is becoming more apparent, and by this time, his lips are beginning to quiver._

_"…I could go on my own tomorrow." Daichi proposes absently. "So you don't get sick."_

_Sugawara looks up at him surprised, then frowns. "_

_Sawamura Daichi." He says in a chastising tone, narrowing his eyes._

_Daichi swears Sugawara has the reproaching-parental look __and voice down perfectly._

_"You're already shivering," Daichi offers, but he can't help but smirk at the other's stubbornness._

_"I w-won't get sick!" The cold is making Sugawara's voice waver, but his resolve remains strong. "Y-You're not going on that lake alone, what if you fall in? What if something happens?" Sugawara is reprimanding him now, reprimanding him for even __considering the thought of going alone. "Or did you forget our rule of always going places—especially in the forest—in twos?"_

_Daichi sighs, hanging his head in well-mannered defeat because in all his years of knowing the other, he has never been able to win an argument with Sugawara. Slowly, he turns his head to completely face Sugawara, grinning widely. "Suit yourself."_

.  
><em><br>That night, Daichi sits in his room, shuffling through a small closet that is barely a foot in length and width. He finds a light blue dress. He scrutinizes it for a minute, then holds it up while squinting, then places it up onto his body, as if measuring it against his own. Sighing, he stands, lighting the wick on his kerosene lamp. It would have to do._

_Crawling onto his bed, he takes out a knife, a few pieces of thread and a small needle from his mother's old sewing kit. Daichi always had a few needles lying around the house, an odd thread or random pieces of fabric tucked away in hidden areas. His mother loved to sew. At least, that's what his father had told him when he was little. Daichi himself didn't remember his mother, but felt like he knew her vicariously through his father's lively stories. He always looked forward to hearing those stories, loved hearing about how they met, how they would joke and rile each other up, or even watch how his father's face would soften ever so slightly when he described the little 'quirks' his mother possessed. Daichi had looked forward to those stories until they ended—when his father had abruptly died in a mining accident._

_Daichi would be up early tomorrow morning, which unfortunately, would be in a few hours. His eyes were heavy, drooping down, and tired from the expenditure of energy during the day. But still, he persists with the task on hand. He begins to use the knife as a makeshift scissor, cutting the dress and threading the needle._

.

_The next day, Sugawara is knocking on Daichi's door. He has a key, but knocks anyway for Daichi's privacy. It is still dark outside, early enough to see that there are no signs of the sun rising. "Come in," Daichi calls from the kitchen, knowing it is Sugawara. "I'm almost ready."_

_Sugawara enters the house, his pale cheeks already rosy from the freezing weather. His lips are quivering and he is shivering and __hunching again. It isn't much warmer in Daichi's house, but he seems content._

_Exiting the kitchen and putting on his thin, torn coat, Daichi sits and begins to pull on his tattered winter boots._

_"Have a good night?" Sugawara inquires, rubbing his hands together._

_Sugawara seems to take a moment to look up at Daichi, tilting his head, as if noticing something. (Hopefully, Daichi thinks, __not noticing the darkened bags under his eyes, or the overall fatigue emanating from his person). Quickly, to avoid suspicion, but in a way that he believes isn't overtly obvious, Daichi stands._

_"Just a bit tired." Daichi replies offhandedly, then swiftly rises and puts an item in Sugawara's hands._

_"Eh?" Sugawara is surprised, looking down at the light weight. "What is it?"_

_At this time, other than a very dim candle, there are no lights in Daichi's house. Even so, Daichi is sure Sugawara can at least see its color. Light blue is much harder to come by nowadays, because of the expense of using dyes._

_Sugawara strains his eyes, lifting the object in front of him as it swiftly unfolds and drapes down. "…A scarf." He looks up at Daichi. "When did you—"_

_"Last night," Daichi replies automatically, "I had some time on my hands."_

_Sugawara smiles slowly, before breaking out fully into a grin. "Thanks, Daichi!" He says happily, right before hugging him, the warm cloth serving as a light partition between them._

_"The fabric should give you some decent warmth", Daichi begins, because it's one of his mother's winter dresses (though he chooses explicitly not to divulge this to Sugawara). "And it's not very well-made," He adds, regarding the blatant uneven stitches. "But—"_

_"It's perfect," Sugawara whispers, tying it around his neck, feeling the fabric lightly with his fingers. He shuts his eyes and his grin becomes even wider. "…It's perfect."_

* * *

><p>There is a simultaneous wave of dismay and relief when they <em>finally<em> exit the train. Despite the train's grand appearance, Daichi is relieved he is no longer a prisoner within its confines— but also is disheartened that they are _already _in the Capitol. He _couldn't_ deny or ignore his fate any further. The Hunger Games were no longer some unwanted fleeting dream; it was no longer a fear that lurked, waiting to occur sometime in the future. It was here, it happened—and now, he was drowning in it, with no chances to escape.

The Hunger Games were approaching quickly, even faster than he had initially anticipated. As he walks out of the train, his feet touch a plush, luxurious, blood-red carpet. It is softer and thicker than the carpet strewn across the interior of the train and it continues farther up, leading and disappearing to a place Daichi is unsure of. There are small, extravagantly detailed ropes situated on the edges of the red carpet to separate them from the 'excitement' of the people surrounding them.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of small, pattering footsteps behind him. Hinata is trailing close and in all honesty, it makes him smile. He's sure Suga would coo at the sight, the little chick hastily following after.

"Wow," Hinata declares, his breath hitching, clearly unable to hold in his amazement. He is making a high-pitched sound of excitement (_Oooough!_), before running to peek on either side of Daichi, face still filled of astonishment. "So this is the Capitol…"

Daichi couldn't blame Hinata for his curiosity. The Capitol was vastly different from the rustic feel of Karasuno. District Twelve was covered in trees, the air was more crisp—more clear—and there weren't cement-like houses smashed up together in tiny spaces. The streets weren't paved, and there were no grand carpets to greet anyone. There were no opulent statues, no glimmering fountains and no individuals decked out in 'couture'— with clothes and shoes that didn't make sense, with hair-colored like a sea of rainbow, or with faces plastered in mask-like makeup. This urban jungle felt like a prison, just like that train had, with air brimming full of tension and deceit.

Takeda is conversing with several of the people as they pass, turning over to the edges of those ropes that separated them from the citizens, something about how 'quaint and lovely' his time with the tributes has been thus far. He continues on, prattling about how he knows that _these_ tributes are special— before finally turning to address Daichi and Hinata.

"I'll be dropping you off to meet your stylist." Takeda says spiritedly, before turning to Ukai. "Keishin, do you want to get something to eat, or do you want to head straight to the waiting area?"

_Stylist? _Daichi sneers, clenching his fists beside him.

_Damn the Capitol._

The citizens are peering at them on either side, all regarding Hinata and him from top to bottom, as if surveying the quality of a new type of meat. There is chatter among them, things like, '_He has a good build_,' or, '_I think that little one is cute_' and '_Maybe I'll vote for him._' The people are reaching over the thin, rope-like separation between them, looking to better poke or "assess" Daichi and Hinata. They are innately interested, whispering to each other on their thoughts and personal opinions. It makes Daichi feel sick to his stomach, being treated like nothing more than something to bid on, only to be forgotten the instant he is killed in the arena—because he is replaceable—just like any other commodity in the Capitol.

Hinata narrows his eyes, before peeking his head out again from behind Daichi, taking hold of Daichi's sleeve, to look at Takeda. "Stylist?" He questions, and then grimaces, like he has a sour taste in his mouth. He scuffs his feet on the ground childishly, pulling his hand away from Daichi, then clasping his hands behind him, pouting up at their escort.

"You'll have to be cleaned up first before you go." Takeda says matter-of-factly, running a hand through his lime green, yellow flecked, tousled hair. He's lifted his chin up in what could only be described as _ignorantly_ snobbish.

"Cleaned up?" Daichi asks, raising a brow. He says the words a little too sternly, though no one seems to notice. They're _already clean_, thank you. It's these _citizens_ that need to clean up. They look like crazy clowns that had recently been released from the wilderness. _Actually,_ Daichi mused, _the wilderness was probably more civilized than this. Animals kill for survival—and these so-called "people" kill for pure enjoyment._

"It won't be too bad", Takeda assures, completely missing the point. Of course he would. He is turned back to Ukai now, talking about various eateries they could visit, something about, '_Keishin, the Crème Brûlée there is absolutely divine!_'

Daichi rolls his eyes before he and Hinata are finally ushered into a building. Ukai and Takeda walk off without so much as sparing them a glance, while Daichi and Hinata are left alone to fend for themselves. Daichi turns his head, glancing at the seemingly sterile environment. Everything, floor to ceiling is made of steel, with tools on metal tables. To put it frankly, it looks like a torturing chamber.

The citizens working here are wearing tight, strange plastic-like suits while fussing with people on tables (probably tributes) who are being hosed down or 'beautified' to their 'standards'.

Without so much as an introduction, Daichi feels a hand unceremoniously grab his forearm, and the next thing he knows, he and Hinata are both hoisted onto a gurney, rolled over to different areas, but still within earshot of each other.

Daichi can hear Hinata yell indignantly, "_what are you going to do with that_?" as he shuts his eyes, clothes ripped off of him with cold, gloved hands. Upon being pushed over to his 'styling' area, he notices all around that there aren't any curtains for privacy, no sheets to supply even the slightest ounce of decency. Why _would_ there be? The Capitol never saw the district residents as people anyway; surely decency and privacy weren't things they needed to concern themselves with.

He flinches, staring up at a person leaned over him—taking tweezers to his face, pulling an odd hair on his brow, while another rips a strip of warm paper with a glue-like substance from his leg. Daichi winces, grunting in pain while another grabs hold of a single piece of gauze to put up to his leg. He assumes he must be bleeding somewhere near his shin. On the _bright _side, they at least seem to only be doing this to his legs and chest. _Thank goodness_, he winces inwardly.

Hinata yelps from afar and Daichi can hear the shuddering, metal clang as Hinata rustles about restlessly. "OW! Stop it, I'm—_**OUCH**_!" _  
><em>  
>Without warning, Daichi is suddenly hosed down with ice-cold water, as he finds himself jolting and hissing in discomfort at how high the pressure is. It feels like icy needles are being shoved into his body, and he begins to shake uncontrollably from the effects of the freezing water. The citizens are talking amongst each other idly, while another is yanking at his hair, washing it for probably the fifth time. There is another strange person approaching him, making sure his face is clean shaven.<p>

_It's already clean shaven,_ he thinks again, but of course, it isn't up to "_Capitol_" standards. With each yank of his hair, each callous pull of his body, he is reminded over and over again.

The people who live in the districts aren't _people. _

The citizens are _above_ the districts. The districts are nothing but animals, beneath them and dirty. The districts serve their purpose, only useful for providing the Capitol with its resources, and when needed, provide a source of entertainment.

_They_ don't count.

* * *

><p>Each person that approaches him looks stranger than the next. Some have eyelashes that extend far from their faces, others with lashes that curl up into designs, like butterflies. There isn't a single person with "naturally-colored" hair in the sea of magentas, oranges and blindingly bright greens in the room. Most of the individuals' hair seems to stick up in odd areas with no real pattern.<p>

The only things they all have in common are their plastic-like suits and gloves.

Probably to spare them from touching the "filth" from the districts.

Hinata is mumbling now, loudly. He's saying something about it being freezing and how _they can stop playing with his hair now, it's perfectly fine. _Daichi smirks, knowing Hinata is probably gritting his teeth. He can still hear the metal vibrations of the gurney where the orange-headed tribute is laying, because most likely, Hinata hasn't and _refuses_ to stop moving. Daichi can hear the people around him muttering to themselves, yanking (or at least he assumed they were yanking, because Hinata was yelping) at his limbs.

.

..

...

After about ten minutes of being forced to lay inert, Daichi becomes impatient.

"We'll be taking you to your stylist now." One of the people says, as if sensing his irritation. "It'll be a few more minutes before the other tribute is done."

Hinata probably was taking longer to 'get clean' because he was squirming and complaining so much.

Daichi smirks to himself.

_Give them hell, Hinata._

* * *

><p>They are both secluded in a room now, sitting in silence. Hinata is gingerly reaching down to his leg, wincing at every little touch. He scowls each time, his leg spasming away at any contact. "They're going to make us put on shirts and cover our legs with pants anyway—and neither of us had that much hair to begin with! You could barely see anything!" Hinata complains, moaning at the unnecessary pain he feels. "And that water was so cold…"<p>

Daichi chuckles in agreement and at the situation they're in. It was almost ironic, how they had spent their whole lives too poor to afford even the smallest luxuries, and now, having been chosen for the Hunger Games, were being 'gussied up' to Capitol ideals and notions of beauty, lavished with every luxury possible only to be thrown into an arena to face imminent death. It was similar, Daichi thought, to farmers fattening up the pigs they were readying for slaughter. In any case, Daichi would be just as frustrated as Hinata right now, but something tells him that for now, _he_ needs to be the strong one.

Just then, they hear a door slide open, letting a small, slender female inside. She seems completely emotionless and continues to slowly walk until she is situated directly in front of them.

She silently observes them from behind her pink, frameless glasses. She is obviously a citizen, but Daichi notes that she doesn't look _nearly_ as absurd as everyone else. She does not have any strange adornments on her eyes, no ridiculous hats. Her hair actually looks like it's remained its natural color. She is dressed in black and silver—a tunic— with one cap sleeve and the other a thin strap. She wore black, laced up thigh-high boots and silver stockings adorned with stitchings of feathers underneath with a single, golden necklace hanging low from her neck. The bright, gold color from her necklace is mirrored by a light line of gold eyeliner over the top rim of her eyes.

"Who _are _you?" Hinata asks in a petulant voice. She isn't saying anything and Hinata must've gotten annoyed with waiting. He fidgets in his seat, visibly wincing at his legs, but at the same time trying to take on a more 'intimidating' stance.

"Shimizu Kiyoko." She replies quietly, pushing her fringe out of her face. Her voice is barely above that of a whisper. Both Daichi and Hinata need to crane their heads forward just to hear her.

"I saw what you both did…" She starts, before trailing off, looking down at her feet. Daichi purses his lips, unsure of what she is alluding to. Her lips move noiselessly, before adding: "…I'm sorry that this happened to you."

Daichi raises an eye, disbelievingly. Her apology makes him feel…annoyed. Hinata seems to be thinking the same thing, because he makes a small sound of skepticism and leans his chin on his palm casually, as if he is bored with her already. He is swinging his feet impatiently.

"Oh?" Daichi replies coolly, keeping his temper in check. "Most people just want to _congratulate_ us." He isn't sure if it's because he's already feeling high-strung from the circumstances or if it's due to the fact that he's generally been taught _never to trust_ the Capitol and its citizens, but something feels disingenuous about her words. It feels like a mockery, like what he and Hinata did by volunteering was being made light, because it was a new 'twist' of drama from the tributes to supply to the Hunger Games.

Well, maybe her words weren't _quite _disingenuous. It just didn't _feel_ right. It didn't feel right that a _citizen_ would actually "be sorry" or even show the least bit of concern over their current situation.  
><em><br>_She raises her eyes to meet with his and Hinata's. If she can sense their skepticism, she doesn't show it through any emotion on her face. Instead, she stands her ground and looks straight at them with piercing, greyish blue eyes. "…I don't see the point of congratulating you."

Hinata folds his arms around the back of his neck while staring intently at her, still swaying impatiently in his seat. He is swaying so much that the seat is beginning to creak beneath him. His eyes are narrowed to small slits, appearing interested. "So what…you're here to make us look cool?"

Kiyoko pauses at this, regarding them both, then says sternly in her quiet voice: "…I'm here to make an impression."

Before either can reply, she begins to elucidate. "Each district usually dresses as per the resource they represent, the resource that they provide to the Capitol— or in the mascot, or image that has been associated with that district."

"Yeah," Hinata answers, arms still linked behind his head. "We're usually coal-miners, crows, or… crow's covered with soot, or something really lame like that."

Daichi crosses his arms, leaning back onto his chair, legs spread open. He doesn't care about looking cool. He just wants to get this thing going, even if he and Hinata were going to be dressed to prance around like idiots—nothing more than prize commodities, nothing more than entertainment. That's all the tribute parade was about, anyway. Being gussied up so the Capitol citizens could see all the tributes for this year, pick their favorites and support them.

"I don't want to do that." Kiyoko's answer is abrupt and suddenly assertive. She continues to gaze at them, unfaltering, straight in the eyes. She says nothing for a few seconds before finally letting out a small, barely audible breath. "I just that think people that brave…," she smiles _ever_ so slightly, her eyes lifting and glinting, "… shouldn't be put in some stupid costumes."

* * *

><p>She is fussing over them both now, making last minute fixes to their outfits. Daichi notes that she has indeed kept her word. They <em>don't<em> look ridiculous. They are dressed in black leather, embossed with angular feather designs (subtly including the crow mascot symbol their district is known for), with collars high up. Their shirts are zipped half way down to reveal some of their chest (_"I guess they were gonna show a bit of our chests..." Hinata mumbles, still sore over the waxing_), and their hair is left nearly alone, albeit more tousled by Kiyoko with some kind of product to make it look more 'windswept'. She also added subtle iridescent shimmers—similar to Takeda's— Hinata with an orangey-yellow iridescence and Daichi's with a taupe-like color, teetering between browns and greys with each motion of his hair.

Kiyoko approaches Daichi with a small control in her hand. "When you're ready, press this. The fire isn't real, so don't worry." It's more difficult to hear her with the tributes rustling about them and the roaring crowd outside. It seemed more like a mob than a crowd, but Daichi is sure that the Capitol would beg to differ.

"But it _looks_ real," Hinata protests, his voice laced with nervousness.

Daichi nods in agreement and turns to regard Kiyoko questioningly. "Are you sure we won't burn to death?"

"It has to look real." She responds blatantly, crossing her arms over her chest, as if thinking their concerns were bordering ridiculous. "…That's the point."

Both Daichi and Hinata scoff, but Daichi takes hold of the control anyway.

"You will be heading out last." Kiyoko adds almost inaudibly, before walking away to join the crowds. "Good luck."

"Easy for her to say", Hinata says from behind Daichi. "She's not the one wearing these!"

Despite Daichi's agreement with the smaller tribute, he tries to convince Hinata that it should be okay. Now that he thinks about it, why would they kill their tributes before the games themselves? Certainly they'd take precautions to make sure that_ didn't_ happen. The citizens needed to have their sick pleasure and wouldn't let end it that easily. Of course not, that would be too easy, and there was no fun in already dead tributes that weren't tossed around first.

"Ready to go?" Daichi inquires, heading into a cart that resembled more of a chariot. He feels silly looking at its flamboyant design, crow feathers embossed and carved into the entirety of the black cart, but Hinata appears excited.

"Wauuuuuuuuuuugh", Hinata vocalizes in awe. "Do you think they made these just for us this year?" Daichi ponders the question for an instant, because he doesn't remember district twelve having anything that looked remotely that impressive (though his own knowledge of the games was minimal, because he often didn't stay to watch long). Even so, the designs on their 'chariot' are so remarkably different from the other tributes' carts that it stands out, though theirs is completely black.

In a few words, it looks… brazen and ominous.

"Maybe." Daichi responds, before shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath to steel himself.

He wonders if Suga will be watching.

Hinata is squirming now, suddenly nervous. From Daichi's peripheral version, he can see the poor boy is beginning to clutch onto his stomach.

"We'll make it, Hinata", he assures, gently raising a hand to firmly place it on his back.

_We'll make it._

* * *

><p>Before they know it, the gates are opening and their 'chariot' begins to move. Daichi tightens his grip on the handles while Hinata conjointly tightens his hold around his stomach as the tribute parade commences.<p>

When they exit, the sheer amount of people cheering and staring at them is unbelievable. They are pointing and yelling to each other at the same time, sizing up each tribute. The sounds are so deafening that it almost feels silent, because Daichi cannot comprehend a single thing. He can see that an announcer is saying something— but as with the crowd, he cannot hear or understand her. It's either too loud or he's ridden with shock. Maybe both.

There seem to be giant screens suspended hundreds of feet high on either side of the chariots, showing off each member of each district in full, high definition. Daichi can see his own face close-up on his right side, watching it mirror his movements as he tilts his head in moderate curiosity. He then takes a moment to view some of the other tributes. Many catch his attention, because _many_ look worryingly capable.

Still, he can easily see the fear in each of the tributes eyes— even in the ones that are smiling proudly and nodding at the crowd, egging them on. Daichi shakes his head and clears it of all thoughts before eyeing his now ill companion.

"Hinata," he says as gently and as sternly as he can. Hinata looks up at him in response, removing his hands from his stomach, though he continues to hunch. Daichi nods at him. "Are you ready?"

Daichi pauses before stating with confidence in his voice: "Back straight, stand proud."

At first, Hinata seems to question what he is alluding to, mouth agape. Daichi wastes no time in explaining and presses the button. There is a collective gasp in the crowd as everything around them becomes engulfed in flames. Their suits, their entire _chariot_, are swept up in a bright encompassing of orangey, red fire. They themselves seem to be a contained blue flame, emphasizing the core of the blaze. The iridescent shimmers Kiyoko added into their tousled hair seem to exude out of the flames, shining brilliantly with each movement. Suddenly, Daichi feels empowered.

_Make an impression_, Daichi thinks. _Get sponsors_. With this, his expression changes into one of purpose.

It's at this moment— in the moment that nearly all the people are focusing solely on them, that Daichi clasps Hinata's hand tightly. He stares into Hinata's eyes, sternly telling Hinata wordlessly what their next move will be. Hinata nods in understanding.

_Put on a show,_ his eyes tell Hinata. _Try as hard as you can. _At first, Hinata is surprised and confused at the sudden gesture. However, when he looks up at Daichi, standing tall and brave, something in Hinata's own eyes flashes, and he seems to understand. Hinata nods, before tightening his grip on Daichi's hand, firmly grasping them back as well.

With that, they raise their hands above their heads, clutched tightly in a show of confidence and pride.

.

..

...

* * *

><p>"So brave," Ukai is smirking, almost as if he is proud, but there is a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Daichi and Hinata are now with them in the back of a room after their presentation to the Capitol. It's the first time Hinata and Daichi <em>don't <em>see Ukai with either a glass of alcohol or a cigarette.

Takeda is next to him, positively _beaming. _He's dressed differently. His hair is no longer green and adorned with flecks of yellow; it's a deep crimson red now, embellished with flecks of gold instead. He is wearing a fitting leather jacket with all kinds of tactile accents, buckles, zippers in every place imaginable. The arm sleeves aren't made of leather (instead, a soft stretchy fabric) embellished with feather-like patterns, and he can see Takeda's shirt cuffs peeking out from under them. The jacket is open and it's apparent that the escort has again layered colorful clothing on top of more colorful clothing. His shirts are unbuttoned at different lengths, dipping in depth the more they are layered. He has skinny-type pants on, a bright green (it made Daichi wince) with deep, crimson lace-up boots (with, _of course_, gold laces to match the gold in his hair).

…It looks uncomfortable.

Daichi doesn't know if he's getting used to "Capitol Couture", but for some reason, Takeda doesn't look nearly as ludicrous as he usually does.

"I _knew_ my tributes were special this year!" Takeda nudges Ukai playfully, as if he was saying, _ha, told you._ If Ukai noticed, he's pretending not to— because he is looking away disinterestedly.

Kiyoko is behind them, regarding them all with the same blank and seemingly detached look on her face. Daichi can tell she wants to say something though, so he continues to look over at her.

"…It was amazing." She states, blushing in embarrassment, staring down at her boots.

Hinata's nerves must have calmed, because he is smiling excitedly now, pumping his fists. He is going on now, complimenting Kiyoko on her work in the costumes, asking her _how exactly_ she made the fire look so real. It seemed that Hinata was warming up to their stylist, a genuine smile finally adorning his face.

Daichi himself couldn't help but feel grateful to Kiyoko as well. Her costumes didn't make them feel like puppets in a show, it gave them the confidence and determination they needed to stand proud for themselves, and for their district. Unbeknownst to the Capitol and its citizens, they were saying for the world to see: "We do _not_ belong to you."

"Didn't think we'd be getting any compliments from you," Daichi says flippantly, aiming his retort at Ukai, facing him so that the others couldn't mistake the comment for them. Ukai's smirk widens, as if happy to know the tributes from district twelve had some _nerve_ this year.

"Well—" Ukai pauses abruptly, mid-sentence, looking up.

Surprised, Daichi and Hinata look at him and then follow this gaze.  
>There is a tribute, staring at them, smiling in a way that can only be described as…<em>feline<em>. _Dangerously feline_, if that's possible. The man's head is tilted slightly towards the left, as if eyeing them curiously.

The tribute has unruly black hair that's been gelled down (though it was obviously making a valiant attempt to stand again) and he had a partner that was smaller and much more unassuming. Said partner had blond hair (his black roots are beginning to show), and he seemed to be holding a game of some sort. Daichi isn't sure if that hair was done purposely by the Capitol or if the tribute had done it himself.

And honestly, playing a _game?_ Are the rest of the tributes insane just like the rest of the Capitol?

Daichi narrows his eyes to glare at the taller tribute.

Ukai pulls at them, gently, but firmly. "Come on. Let's take this upstairs."

"We'll be going up to our rooms now," Takeda begins to step towards a building of sorts, flourishing his left arm to notion towards the elevator, his combat boots clanking at the metal floor. He turns to them, grin sparkling white, "And since you're from twelve," he smiles, "_you_ get the penthouse."

* * *

><p>When the elevator opens and they stride into their 'quarters', even Daichi is momentarily amazed by the palatial surroundings. When Daichi realizes his positive reaction to the penthouse, he clenches a fist, finding himself irritated by the excessive surroundings— when there are people starving and dying in the districts.<p>

"Ooooooooooooh!" Hinata gasps, in a raucous, but appreciate way. He peeks out from behind Daichi, (this is beginning to be secretly endearing to Daichi) similar to the way he reacted on the train and upon their entry into the Capitol.

"_I know,_" Takeda answers proudly, "isn't it just _beautiful_? _Everything_ made here is at the _utmost_ quality with the _finest_ materials—everything around you unique—of course, nothing else like it in the world."

Daichi chuckles—because Hinata's initial excitement dwindles immediately, having seen the odd modern-looking furniture. Hinata is mumbling now, mumbling something along the lines of '_of course there's nothing else like it in the world, chairs don't have to be all complicated like that_' before running towards the tables in the dining room.

Takeda is unaffected by this (or simply didn't hear) because he is now gesturing around the area, showing them the floor to ceiling windows, the panoramic views of the Capitol, the plush handmade fur blankets coating the couch that is situated in front of a grand fireplace, adorned with some kind of crystalline substance that glistened with the chandelier's light.

Daichi stares down at his feet. Even the floors are made of some luxurious substance, a substance he's sure his father most likely mined for before he died. It could have very well been the _last thing_ he mined for before his untimely death. Daichi feels his feet tingle in warmth. Nonplussed, he raises a brow.

"The floors are heated as well," Takeda chimes, as if reading Daichi's thoughts. "All the way throughout the entire area. _Amazing,_ isn't it?"

Ah, so that's what it was.

Ukai saunters past Takeda, opening a medium-sized, lit-from-within compartment revealing several bottles of wine. Only the finest quality, Daichi assumes cynically.

"_Keishin_," Takeda reprimands, resting his hands on his hips. He purses his lips and his eyes flicker behind his thick, bejeweled glasses, before Ukai rolls his eyes and scratches the back of his head.

"I'm just checking if there's enough to last through the night," he replies boredly, before digging into his pockets for a smoke. "You know how _taxing_ all this mentoring business can be."

Takeda turns back to Daichi and Hinata, "there is a specialized venting system as well, so even the smell of _nicotine,_" he says with a smile (making Ukai roll his eyes), "can't be detected. Please feel free to look around and ask about anything! Dinner will arrive shortly." Takeda is shooing Ukai from the mini-winery now, leading him to some other room in the penthouse, probably the one farthest from the alcohol. His voice is distant the next time Daichi hears it, Takeda is scolding the other. "We already went to the bar a few hours ago!"

Daichi's eyes wander the room and he notices Hinata is in the living area now, sitting on one of the plush couches Takeda was motioning towards earlier. Daichi notes that when Hinata sits on the couch, Hinata is initially surprised by its luxurious comfort, his eyes bugging widely (understandably, since there is _nothing_ like that back at home), before he lets out a heavy, tired smile, slumping and finally sinking into a depth of warmth and plush softness. He was probably much more exhausted that he thought.

Daichi strides over, sitting next to him, surprised by how _comfortable_ the seats really are. "Are you alright?"

Sluggishly, Hinata opens his eyes, then grins brightly at Daichi. "I'm alright! We… we did really good at the tribute parade, I think." Hinata looks down, playing with his hands before eyeing Daichi with a hesitant glance. "S… Sorry if… I mean…I was nervous."

Daichi smiles, shaking his head. He reaches out, ruffling Hinata's hair affectionately. "Hey, you did fine. There's nothing to apologize about. You were confident." Daichi isn't lying, or saying that solely for the purpose of comforting Hinata in his time of need. Every word he had told Hinata was true.

At first, Hinata may have been nervous and seemingly ill, but the moment the flames burst around them, it seemed as if the smaller tribute was suddenly filled with determination, with pride and strength for his district. They had made quite the scene at the tribute parade, especially when they clasped their hands together, lifting their arms over their heads as the crowds screamed wildly in adulation.

With Daichi's words, Hinata is able to relax. He grins, hugging a bejeweled pillow (much to Hinata's chagrin) and finally falls into a light slumber.

* * *

><p>When Daichi is nudged awake, he is startled and nearly jumps out of his seat. Hinata is less subtle, flailing about and making a sound of distaste, the couch slipping on the ground at his sudden movements.<p>

Hinata is pouting his lips, curious—before his eyes widen in shock—because of the silent, eerie stillness the servant exuded. Their eyes seemed hollow, empty—almost _deadened._

The servants –both wearing bright, crimson red—nod at them, then crane their heads towards the kitchen, still completely silent, without a single movement on their facial features. Takeda had ordered them to wake the two. Daichi finds himself staring intently at one for a few seconds, because he is sure he _recognizes_ the person.

Takeda calls from the table, "Dinner is ready, come eat, you two!"

"Who are you?" Hinata asks inquiringly at the servant, tilting his head and inching his face closer.

"_Hinata_!"

Hinata cringes, turning his head towards the kitchen to find Takeda standing there, with a firm look plastered on his kind face. It isn't a look they see often on their typically happy escort, but something in the way Takeda looks makes them both instantly obey. "Do _not_ speak to them. You only speak when you're giving an order, understand?"

Upon seeing Daichi and Hinata's collective reactions (both with their heads bowed, filled with uncertainty and probably fear on Hinata's part), he sighs, smiling lightly at them, like a teacher who had just chastised his students for doing something they weren't aware was wrong.

"Just… come in to eat, alright?" Takeda adds softly, "everyone is hungry."

* * *

><p>When they reach the tables, everyone, including Kiyoko and her team of designers are there, digging into the feast in front of them. There isn't a single part of the table that <em>isn't <em>covered with some extravagant type of food. The aroma is unbelievable. Daichi can feel the familiar sting of hunger settling into his stomach and he is grateful that at least today, he has the option to eat as much as he needs to.

"Avoxes," Takeda explains, as Daichi and Hinata look up at him. "That's what they are. They rebelled against the Capitol; they're traitors, defectors –deserters." Takeda has an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, his conviction clear. He _doesn't_ pity or feel anything for these servants. They chose to rebel against the Capitol and these are the consequences.

Hinata looks up at Takeda, a drumstick sticking out of his mouth. Ukai is swirling his wine, lifting his glass before taking a sip.

"This is their punishment. Their tongues are removed and they are _not_ to be spoken to unless giving an order." He regards both Daichi and Hinata as severely as he can with his young face, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows. "Is that understood?"

It is at this time that Daichi has an instant of clarity, realizing why he had recognized one of the servants. Sugawara and he were sitting—sitting in the place beyond the bordered fence as they always had—when they suddenly heard two people screaming in the distance. They immediately took shelter under the tall grass, but not before witnessing one of the individuals being shot mercilessly while the other was netted like an animal and carried away by a hovercraft. The victim had locked eyes with Daichi and Sugawara at the time, screaming desperately for help, as the hovercraft from the Capitol stole him away.

Daichi clutches at his fork tightly, feeling angry and frustrated with the situation. Sugawara couldn't be consoled after _for months _after that.

"Eat", Ukai tells Daichi, pointing his fork at him as if aware of his sudden silence. "You'll need it for when you train tomorrow. You only have two weeks. If you want to keep any promises, you'll have to be in tip-top condition."

He did make a promise, Daichi thinks; he more or less promised Suga he wouldn't die. He may not be able to keep that promise in the end, but he wanted to do his best for him. So even though he is sickened by the thought of what these poor people have gone through, even though he wanted to slam his fork down and yell at the top of his lungs, he swallows all of his emotion and forces himself to eat. He grimaces. Food that looked and tasted this incredible had _never_ gone down so heavily.

Daichi doesn't know how Hinata reacted to the story of the avoxes, having been lost in his own thoughts—but when he looks up at the other, he notices that Hinata too had straightened up after Ukai's words. He must've felt the same way that he did.

"This lobster is _amazing_," Takeda says, eyes fluttering and reaching over for seconds. "Don't you think they've just outdone themselves this year?"

Kiyoko smiles in agreement. "…They have. Everything is wonderful. I especially love the variety of meat they're using this year."

"_Top_ quality, I know! District 10 has outdone themselves with livestock this year, everything is wonderful!" Takeda replies, sipping out of his crystalline cup. He swallows, before smiling and returning to the feast in front of him.

Daichi smiles mirthlessly. _Yes, everything is wonderful. The Capitol takes all valuable resources that districts had worked hard for at minimum to no wage, and they were left with the scraps, if they were lucky._

"Tell me a little bit about your skills," Ukai starts, cutting into his perfectly marbled sirloin steak. "I hear you're strong."

Daichi looks up at Ukai, noting that he might actually be interested in them as people, before taking another piece of his salmon and putting it up to his mouth.

"He _is_ strong –and his defensive skills are awesome!" Hinata replies excitedly, waving his fork in excitement, "I bet he could lift Sugawara right up into the air—and Daichi… he's smart too!" He swallows, attempting to digest his food before continuing, "And… and… I swear I saw him catch a knife while it was flying through the air!"

Daichi had forgotten about that. He had asked to borrow a knife, and Asahi—, who meant to only toss it to him, had accidentally thrown it to him at nearly full strength. Somehow, Daichi had the reflexes to simply snatch it up mid-air (of course poor Asahi was flailing—panicking and apologizing non-stop after that).

"A knife mid-air…" Kiyoko repeats, before cutting into her lobster tail, a small smile affixed on her face. "...Impressive."

"Sugawara?" Takeda responds kindly and genuinely interested, "Is that the one he volunteered for? He seemed very nice. Hm...and as for lifting him up into the air…" He seems to be thinking, probably gauging Sugawara's size and probable weight mass, before he looks up. He nods approvingly. "That's quite the feat."

Hinata is invigorated by Takeda's response and nods wildly. "Yeah, and Sugawara's _really_ cool too!"

For a moment, Daichi chuckles, forgetting his surroundings. He decides to tell them about Hinata's skills too, because although small, he knew Hinata had several important strengths. "Hinata is fast. He can speed through everything—obstacles at ridiculous speeds, like they're nothing. He can jump too—jump at unnaturally and extraordinarily tall heights." Daichi lifts his gaze to Hinata, smiling gently. "He also has amazing reaction time. Faster than I've seen from most everyone back at home."

Hinata gapes, his mouth opened embarrassedly. He smiles, before observing his food, poking at his dinner shyly. "W-Well…"

When Hinata isn't sure how to respond, he begins to eat again, alternating between obviously grinning happily and smiling timidly at the same time.

"Huh," Ukai starts, resting his fork on the center of his lip, causing his lip to be pulled down, insides showing. Takeda grimaces at the exposure (as well as the food in Ukai's mouth) and clucks his tongue unappreciatively.

Ukai's gaze lazes over to him. Outwardly, it doesn't seem like he cares about Takeda's little protest, but he pulls his fork away from his mouth anyway. "It sounds like you two have some great assets then. Be sure to hone those abilities during training tomorrow."

"Who were those guys looking at us?" Daichi asks promptly. Thinking about training made him think about the tributes, and inevitably, made him remember the earlier events of the day. They were all simply talking about the tribute parade and how it went, when they were suddenly ushered inside upon the look of another tribute.

"From district eleven," Ukai is nearly done with his steak now, but it seems like he's reaching for another, "otherwise known…as Nekoma."

_Nekoma._

Of course.

Daichi had heard of Nekoma of course. Their rival, in nearly everything. You would think that the districts, the outlying districts especially—had enough on their plates, worrying about starvation and how to survive in general. Yet somehow, some way, a rivalry was born between the two—something about their district names, having to do with cats and crows. Apparently, during the Hunger Games, they sometimes exposed this rivalry for all it was worth. Neither district had won the Hunger Games in years though— and it wasn't like it really mattered much at all.

Daichi wasn't sure he cared. It was trivial. Sure, he had pride for his district, but he had other things on his mind. As long as they stayed out of each other's way, at least until the Hunger Games, it didn't weigh heavily on him. His main concern was surviving and protecting those close to him. _That_ was what was important. Not some stupid rivalry.

"Nekoma?" Hinata pipes up, now moving onto the steak. He was eyeing Ukai for a while now, and probably decided that his chicken wasn't nearly as exciting and as satisfying looking as that juicy piece of steak. "Aren't they like our rivals or something?"

"Yes," Takeda says, smiling. "Though they don't get _any_ special treatment. Their escort doesn't let them have extra snacks and desserts, and I do!"

Kiyoko smiles, taking a sip from her water, nodding in agreement.

"Just keep your eyes open," Ukai replies. "They aren't necessarily guaranteed to do anything against you— but it depends on the tributes. Sometimes they care about the rivalry, sometimes they don't. Sometimes there's even more of a brotherly truce—at least until the very end. The sort of… the enemy of my enemy is my friend, kind of thing. You may or may not be their first target."

Ukai is reaching for his wine, but before taking a sip, he raises his eyes, smiling up at Daichi and Hinata. "Oh, take that into consideration too. There are often alliances formed in the Hunger Games. I know it seems odd, but it's usually a good means of taking out the stronger or even the weaker tributes. Like I said…Just keep your eye out and watch your back."

"Their names are Kuroo Tetsurou," Takeda begins, somewhat changing the subject. He looks up at the coved ceiling, thoughtful, before speaking again. "Ah—he's the taller one, with the hair that looks like it's trying to stand up again." Takeda takes the silk napkin, dabbing it on his lips daintily, before setting it down. "The smaller, pudding-headed one is Kozume Kenma."

Takeda is moving on now, talking about all the other tributes and giving as much information as he can, with Ukai interjecting here and there with the knowledge he had.

Daichi shut his eyes, attempting to process all the information they were receiving.

"And then there are the Career districts. You know of them, right? Luxury districts— districts one, two and four." He pauses, sipping his drink once more. "They train in an academy, then volunteer. They're pretty much lethal by that point. They usually win it every year…" Ukai is moving on now, providing more description about the Career Districts: District 1, _Shiratorizawa_. District 2, _Jouzenji_ and finally, District 4, _Aoba Johsai_.

"_Almost_, every year." Takeda interjects, pointedly, pouting his lips. "Anyway, I think we could use some dessert here!" He adds jovially. The rest of the table hums in agreement, while Takeda lifts a hand to beckon an avox. Takeda's interjections about dessert within Ukai's serious talk put together threw everything off, and Daichi wondered if Takeda truly knew the gravity of what the Games were.

Probably not, he decided. He _couldn't._

Daichi sighed heavily. He really needed to make sure to get as much sleep as he could tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Author [M]<strong>: LOL This is late because I took 10 years to beta it. Unfortunately, we plan on updating every few weeks, so thank you so much for all your patience!

**Author [K]:** OHOHOHO Suga's scarf was from Daichiii~! Oh my goodness, I feel like we've stared at this so many times. _Please_ _do_ leave feedback if you can, we would love to hear your thoughts. It also helps us update faster and it really encourages us to continue. ^_^

To those of you who have left behind feedback, came to read, etc. _thank you very much! _We really do appreciate all your support, and it makes us feel warm and happy inside!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note [M]:** Sorry that this took a while to post, classes started for me in January! This chapter is rather short and full of Tsukkiyama, next chapter we're back in the Capitol with Daichi and Hinata! Thanks again for your patience.

* * *

><p>5. <strong>Tsukishima, Kei<br>**  
><em>"Hm?" He stares down at the shorter male looking disinterested and annoyed, but at the same time, is fully aware that the other knew better than to take his outward expression too seriously. The freckled boy is standing in front of him, gingerly holding a small, beat up, wrinkled package in his hands.<em>

_"Happy Birthday!" Yamaguchi chirps, smiling brightly, _too _brightly in light of their circumstance. Still, he has a slight bounce in his gait and Tsukishima tilts his head before eyeing him incredulously, attempting to voice his thoughts merely through his actions._

"_Yamaguchi…" He starts, tentatively. Tsukishima is taciturn by nature and he knows Yamaguchi understands this._

_"Haha," Yamaguchi chuckles, almost shyly. He looks down at the package settled on top of his own bandaged hands. "Well… it's your first birthday since…" He trails off for a moment, scuffing his feet into the hardwood ground before craning his head up to hesitantly look up at Tsukishima. His eyes are darting from Tsukishima to the floor, to the package, to the floor, then back up to Tsukishima._

_Tsukishima sighs, visibly exasperated at Yamaguchi's abrupt uncertainty and reluctance. By this point in their lives, Yamaguchi had almost_ never _hesitated around Tsukishima. They had known each other too long, gone through too much and __seen too much—__to even dabble in such stupid things. Awkwardness, hesitancy—they were all emotions Tsukishima found tiring, energy-draining and all together, useless. Yamaguchi and he had better things to do with their time than to prance around each other like school children._

_Long story short, they were so comfortable with each other that whenever Yamaguchi _did _hesitate (like he is now)— it _bothered_ Tsukishima—bothered him _a lot_. So Tsukishima rolls his eyes, again emphasizing his irritation, all the while knowing full and well what the issue was. It makes him annoyed that Yamaguchi can't just say it up front, but he figures he shouldn't be surprised. _

_What Yamaguchi _means to say_ is that today is Tsukishima's first birthday with _just the two of them_, since Tsukishima's mother had abruptly died the year before. Yamaguchi is nine (turning ten in little over a month) and Tsukishima, with today being his birthday, has just turned ten._

_._

..

...

_Tsukishima's mother became sick sometime during the winter. It seemed like a common cold, nothing really to worry or fret about. Tsukishima had been making her soup with the last bits of cabbage they had, ultimately deciding to let her rest in her room with as minimal interruptions as possible. He had been keeping extra quiet throughout the day because he wanted her to get as much rest as she possibly could (and it reached the point where he and Yamaguchi were even whispering that day). It was a long while until he came to visit her, peeking into his mother's room later that night carrying a warm bowl of soup in his small hands._

_Tsukishima had tiptoed into her room, placing the soup gently on her nightstand, reaching out his hand to shake her lightly._

_She didn't move, so he figured she was still tired. He eventually had just left her for the night, never admitting that he had snuck back, checking on her time and time again through a small sliver of an opening from the door just to make sure she was as comfortable as she could be._

.

..

...

She never woke up.

_Tsukishima and his mother were the last living in their family for about three years (with everyone else dying from starvation or sickness) and Yamaguchi had always,__always been welcome to stay._

_Yamaguchi had been orphaned and on his own since he was five. It sounded improbable, for a child to be able to survive at that age, but when you're in a place as dismal as District Karasuno, you find a way to survive. Maybe once in a while (though Tsukishima himself never relied on this)— someone would even take pity._

_That's what he and his mother did.  
>They took Yamaguchi in.<em>

_At first, Yamaguchi would scuff his feet, look down at the ground, almost ashamed with having to stay with Tsukishima and his mother, constantly feeling like he was imposing. Tsukishima responded in the same way, rolling his eyes, tugging Yamaguchi by the collar and pulling him, albeit a bit roughly, shoving Yamaguchi straight into his home._

_Tsukishima's mother seemed immensely thrilled with the idea of having an extra person in the house and she often said the same sort of things to Tsukishima about the matter._

"It's good for you to have someone here, Kei. Everyone needs someone to lean on every now and then"._ Tsukishima used to have a brother, his mother told him. Akiteru, she'd say. He died before he even turned one, contracting some sort of childhood sickness that could have been easily cured (had they _had_ the resources and money at the time). Sometimes Tsukishima wondered what kind of brother he would have been. Would he have been the supportive kind? The type Tsukishima could be proud of? Or would they be the type of siblings that argued all the time about everything? _

_In any case, he figured Yamaguchi hadn't _really_ been alone since he was five, since Tsukishima and his mother encouraged him to stay and live with them in their small house for good— instead of aimlessly wandering the streets hungry and alone._

.

_Tsukishima cuts off his thoughts here._  
><em>Better to end them and not risk getting emotional.<em>  
><em>He knew he probably <em>wouldn't_ get too emotional anyway._

_It wasn't in his nature._

_"I'm fine," Tsukishima finally says, and he really is. He doesn't feel melancholy at all, just indifferent to the entirety of the situation. That was how life here was in the districts, although he did over- exaggerate every now and then, admitting that he was indeed somewhat jaded to his surroundings. Parents died, children were left orphaned, left to fend for themselves. He'd seen children as young as two wandering the streets, going from door to door asking for scraps. If a person couldn't handle it, then they weren't suited to be here. People who break easily aren't suited to live this kind of life._

_Heh. Not that they _had _much of a choice to begin with.  
><em>

_Finally, he returns his gaze back up at Yamaguchi, taking the present, a mess of wrinkled old papers, and an old box that had long since lost its shape, tied together with a small piece of twine masquerading as a ribbon. Tsukishima raises a brow, staring at the smaller boy behind his square-rimmed glasses._

_Yamaguchi laughs again, keeping eye contact with Tsukishima, but embarrassedly runs a hand through his hair. "I know, but it's all I could find."_

_When taking the box, Tsukishima takes a moment to observe Yamaguchi's hands in a way that isn't overtly obvious. He'd always had a knack for that kind of thing, surveying people and situations— sometimes without even noticing it. In any case, Yamaguchi's hands are more battered up than usual, cut up, and covered with makeshift bandages._

_Interesting._

_Tsukishima looks at the box again._

_He takes a seat, then pulls on the twine, untying it and releasing the box held within it. Carefully, he pushes the old, stained paper away from the contents._

_Tsukishima's eyes widen when he realizes what is in his hands. He looks up at Yamaguchi, then back down to his hands, mouth slightly agape. _

_Headphones… and a walkman._

_"They're a bit beat up…" Yamaguchi starts, noting the scratches and small dents on the headphones and walkman. "But I cleaned it as best I could." Yamaguchi smiles fondly at his find, playing with his own fingers with joyful pent-up energy. "I know you like music, since… since you're always humming at home. Your mom had a lot of tapes for keepsakes, didn't she?"_

_She did, although he had almost forgotten about it. His mother had a small chest full of old tapes that she had kept hidden away. Tsukishima doesn't clearly remember all the details, but they meant something to her. She couldn't sell them or even ask to see how much they were worth. She just kept them and told Tsukishima that one day, she'd find something to play them—to show him and Yamaguchi how beautiful the sounds were._

_Tsukishima nods distractedly at Yamaguchi, turning the headphones and walkman in his hands, examining them judiciously. (He hadn't noticed he was humming absently in the house, let alone humming at all. He figured Yamaguchi was much too observant for his own good.)_

_"I think one of the peacekeepers must've dropped it a couple years ago," Yamaguchi adds, "but surprisingly… it still works. They also have some old batteries over at the trading post. If those die out, we can probably trade something for them."_

_Tsukishima nods silently again, standing to approach the small chest, opening it and taking out one of his mother's old tapes, noting how odd it felt to be this nostalgic even though the tapes weren't his—before finally putting the headphones over his ears to test the sound. Slowly, he shuts his eyes._

_So that's why Yamaguchi's fingers are covered in scratches and bandages. He'd been searching everywhere, probably digging through old paths, garbage and thorny bushes looking for anything a peacekeeper may have discarded. Anything to resemble a suitable, makeshift present for Tsukishima's birthday. How like him._

_"Happy Birthday", Yamaguchi declares again, straightening up his spine proudly. This time Yamaguchi takes a seat next to him, before leaning forward to grin brightly._

_"Nn." Tsukishima says, because he was never able to properly voice genuine, non-confrontational feelings through words. His eyes remain shut. "…Thanks."_

* * *

><p>He can hear the mixture of hail and rain slamming against the window and he swears the bed is shaking at the gale force winds violently whistling outside of his house. The branches of the trees are scraping against edges of his home, while the endless pattering of rain slams mercilessly against the windows and rooftops. The doors are shaking in response to the strong winds, making shuddering movements, causing the door to their bedroom to open and close, knocking it against its frame.<p>

He finds himself lying awake in bed, thinking about prior events during the day.

.

Earlier that day, Yamaguchi and he had gotten up extra early to scavenge for materials in the forest to patch up and reinforce their roof. They dealt with the issues of the torn roof, hastily and efficiently working as quickly and as effectively as they could. It was a good thing that their environment provided them with some wood at their disposal, though not many people from the districts attempted to go near the forests— for fear of the unknown and rumors of an electric fence that killed upon even the slightest of touches. The only individuals that Tsukishima knew of, other than he and Yamaguchi of course—that were brave enough to venture into the forest were Daichi, Sugawara, Asahi, Nishinoya, Hinata and Kageyama. Even then, he had no idea how far the others ventured in. Yamaguchi and he only went as far as they felt necessary, which really wasn't that far at all. He had never seen any kind of chain-link fence, so he figured it must have either been a story made up by the peacekeepers to keep villagers out of the forests and the possible supplies of food and herbs they could find therein, or maybe—that chain-link fence was so far out into the forest that he had never seen it.

It was better that way, that the other villagers didn't go in. That meant more supplies, more things to scavenge and higher chances of returning home with something instead of nothing in their hands. It worked to their advantage, so he never bothered to share his experiences with any others. Thankfully, Daichi, Sugawara, Kageyama, Hinata, Asahi and Nishinoya were intelligent enough to do the same.

At least he thought they were, because to this day, he hasn't seen anyone else go into the forest: day or night.

After the reaping, the roof had been leaking near the kitchen/living area and somehow, both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi suspected that the weather would take a turn for the worst. They were right, of course. They had a knack for this sort of thing. Or maybe it was just experience, since they'd been relying on only themselves for years now. They knew that everything that _could_ go wrong tended to happen at the same time, or at the very least, during the same time frame.

They had passed Sugawara on the way back, who, since Daichi had left, seemed to be more exhausted than usual. His face was a few shades paler and his eyes appeared tired and dull. They were no longer radiant or eager and his smiles were weak, somewhat disjointed and out of place. Tsukishima assumed it might have something to do with Sugawara's inevitable penchant for worrying (understandably so) —most likely about Daichi and Hinata, their current plight, and having been chosen (then volunteered) for. Despite Sugawara's obvious state, he still visibly forced a smile upon noticing them. It almost annoyed Tsukishima, because if he was having a bad day, he most certainly_ wouldn't_ be smiling at anyone. He didn't care who it was approached him. If _he_ was having a terrible day, people would know about it. He wouldn't hide behind a smile, because it felt pointless to.

"Do you need any help?" Sugawara asks lightly, just like he always does when he sees Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Sugawara knows they're all each other has and has continually offered to be a helping hand if they needed it. Tsukishima himself doesn't like asking for help—and he usually just glances over at Sugawara before shrugging and walking away, sometimes making a snide comment or two with a smirk.

Yamaguchi is usually the one to hastily smile at Sugawara, kind enough to say, "_we're fine!_", and Sugawara, ever the understanding one, would never take Tsukishima's abrupt exits with offense. Tsukishima doesn't care what they think, anyway. He doesn't _need_ any extra help.

They passed Kageyama on the way back home too, who was working even harder than he ever did before. That was probably _his _way of coping, shutting himself out in a constant barrage of work. He looked near to the point of exhaustion, with sweat dripping from his face, cheeks flushed to a rosy pink, arms shaking under pressure. His teeth were gritting at the weight in his hands, his knees looking as if they were about to buckle under the weight—until he suddenly regained balance. Sighing, Kageyama lifts an arm to wipe the accumulation of sweat off his forehead, licking his lips in a display of incredible fatigue. Tsukishima barely spares Kageyama a glance before going into his house, grabbing the tools he and Yamaguchi needed to begin mending the roof. He already did all he could to express his sentiments on Daichi and Hinata's circumstances, even if all he really did was say he was sorry. He vividly remembered how tense Kageyama's shoulder was on the day of the reaping. Tsukishima inwardly frowned.

_Comfort and support._ They definitely weren't his strong suits.

.

..

...

"Can't sleep…?" He is immediately jostled out of his train of thought at the sound of Yamaguchi's smaller voice. He can feel Yamaguchi beginning to shift beside him, turning to face Tsukishima (who is still lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling).

"That rain has been going on for hours now." Tsukishima responds irately, exhaling. He shifts on the bed, leaning his hands behind his head to prop his head on top of them, lips pursed in thought.

"Mm," Yamaguchi agrees sleepily. He wiggles in bed, turning fully to Tsukishima, eying him curiously. Without his glasses, Tsukishima can only see shadows and blurs, but he knows what kind of expression is affixed on the other's face. He shuts his eyes, waiting for Yamaguchi to speak again (and he does). "It's a good thing we decided to fix the roof today… or else we'd probably be in some trouble right now."

Tsukishima feels himself nod automatically at Yamaguchi's words. After a particularly chilly wind snuck itself through a small gap in their window, Yamaguchi moves to pull the blankets over his own shoulders more, inadvertently covering Tsukishima as well.

Tsukishima narrows his eyes because for _some_ reason his mind is again fleeting over to thoughts of Kageyama and Sugawara.

It's _annoying._

"Sorry", he hears from his right. Again, Tsukishima is immediately thrusted from his thoughts.

"What?"

"I thought you looked like that because I covered you with the blanket too. Are you too warm?"

It's pitch black in the room and Yamaguchi can _still_ sense his every move. He wasn't sure if he found that bothersome or endearing.

Tsukishima grunts in response. "I don't care."

Since Tsukishima's mother had passed on, Yamaguchi and he had been doing their best to keep a roof over their head and food in their stomachs. Since they were only nine at the time of her death, they weren't exactly savvy with how to spend and use money, so they ended up selling most of the furniture in the house to garner whatever bits of food they could. It was unbelievably difficult at first—and he could remember feeling the horrible sting in his stomach and how Yamaguchi had curled up on the ground right next to Tsukishima, clutching at his own body, willing his hunger to go away. Those were the days that Tsukishima offered his food to Yamaguchi, under the guise that _'he wasn't hungry anyway'._ After a while, they couldn't handle it anymore. They sold the chairs, the table, some lamps, storage chests, as well as the extra bed. The house was nearly empty, but it was okay, because it didn't really _feel_ empty. They had each other, and for the most part, that's _all_ they really needed.

Now at this age and because of their experiences, they were much more knowledgeable when it came to basic survival. They had scraped together enough to get another bed if they wanted, but neither seemed to bring it up. They were content with what they had and decided that they might as well save what they could for the "rainy days".

Tsukishima's mind once unwittingly fleets back to Sugawara, Kageyama, Daichi and Hinata.

…If they lived long enough to even _have_ rainy days, Tsukki mused.

He isn't sure anymore how many times his and Yamaguchi's names were put in that reaping bowl. In times of extreme difficulty, they had both asked the government for extra food at the expense of putting their names into the reaping bowl. Tsukishima remembers seeing a small paper being written as they asked for food, both his and Yamaguchi's names thrown into a reaping bowl more times than was required for their age. Even though he could not remember the exact number of times, he was sure it was only a few times, though that still increased their chances of being reaped exponentially. What he _is_ certain about is that the odds probably _weren't _in their favor.

"Tch," Tsukishima feels himself say, scowling at the thought. Why _was_ he getting all sentimental, anyway? He never really did put much stock into the reaping. If he was picked, then fine, he'd fight and then maybe, _probably_ die. If Yamaguchi was picked, then it'd be the same, right? Life would go on.

But then those thoughts didn't feel right and Tsukishima shifts uncomfortably, because he can feel something inside him twitch and churn in disagreement.

"…You wanna talk about it?"

This time he turns his head to fully look over at Yamaguchi. Tsukishima isn't really the type of talk about his feelings.

The room suddenly lights up for a second as a clash of thunder interrupts their train of thought. The house seems to clatter in response, and Yamaguchi flinches. Yamaguchi isn't scared of the thunder, just has many memories of being a small boy, hiding in abandoned corners, homeless while a clash of thunder roared ahead. Those were the days when Yamaguchi didn't live with Tsukishima and his mother full-time, due to feelings of doubt and shame. Tsukishima would often go out of his way to find him on those days, and when he did, Yamaguchi would be cowering with his hands over his head. Tsukishima removed his coat and threw it on top of Yamaguchi on those nights, not to shield the rain, since his coat wasn't suited for water resistance, but to shield him from the thunder, or at least, from the lightning that clashed in the distance.

"Thank you", Yamaguchi responds, and Tsukishima looks over at him, confused. Not long after, Tsukishima realizes that he'd absently shuffled over, closer to Yamaguchi, after the clash of thunder. They were nowhere near touching, but Tsukishima's warmth seemed to comfort Yamaguchi anyway.

Tsukishima grumbles incoherently for a second, his way of responding to Yamaguchi's 'thank you'.

"…Are you thinking about Kageyama and Sugawara?" Yamaguchi starts.

Of _course_ he'd notice.  
>Maybe all those freckles of his were secretly eyes too.<p>

"They'll be okay, I think." Yamaguchi shuts his eyes, his voice barely above that of a whisper, "they have their families too. It'll help them through it."

Families. That's right.  
>Tsukishima had been without one for so long that he forgot to even factor that into the situation.<p>

"We're lucky." Yamaguchi adds.

Lucky? Tsukishima wanted to scoff. He would hardly call themselves lucky.

Tsukishima narrows his eyes again in thought, and then looks over at him, asserting himself to tell Yamaguchi in a not-so-direct way what he was thinking. "What if one of us was reaped?"

Yamaguchi is silent for a few minutes, but does let a pensive "huh" out. "I… guess that would be bad then, hm?" He finally says.

It would be, Tsukishima decides, because _they_ don't have families. There isn't anyone else that they'd opened up to. They_ literally_ only have each other.

Tsukishima squints, turning on his side to blindly face the other. He is frowning now, looking at Yamaguchi who (because Tsukishima doesn't have his glasses on), looks like a blob of dull colors.

Swiftly, he reaches his arms out, pulling Yamaguchi into a firm, tight hug.

In all their years together, Tsukishima has never shown any sign of physical affection towards the other. They'd remained the same. Despite this, Tsukishima doesn't feel Yamaguchi react adversely at all. Tsukishima is actually the one who is awkward at first, not knowing what to do with his long limbs as he pulls the other into an odd, albeit comfortable embrace. The uncertainty quickly dissipates however, and he relaxes.

He isn't good with words. He doesn't know how to say he's grateful. So he does this instead. Gently, he tightens the hug, engulfing Yamaguchi in complete warmth.

"We're lucky," Tsukishima agrees finally, with his eyes closed.

Yamaguchi chuckles, leaning his head into Tsukishima's chest in understanding and in favor of more warmth. "We're lucky!" He mirrors happily.

_Heh._ Tsukishima smirks. Yamaguchi could be so ridiculously effervescent sometimes.

They were lucky, _this time._  
>They still had a few more years before they became too old and ineligible for the reaping.<p>

"…Goodnight." Tsukishima says, because he wants to try sleeping again.

Yamaguchi breathes lightly, yawning in agreement. "Mm. …Goodnight, Tsukki."

* * *

><p>Tsukishima wakes up the next morning because an annoying strand of defiant hair is tickling his nose. He crinkles his face, not wanting to open his eyes. The sun isn't out yet and he is determined to sleep in as much as he can, with as little interference as possible. He groans, lifting his head in a sort of awkward irritated notion, finally deciding on leaning his chin on top Yamaguchi's head, his chin serving as a weight for that unruly strand of hair.<p>

Yamaguchi, much to his chagrin, is beginning to shuffle at his movements. It makes Tsukishima bite the inside of his cheek impatiently. He's willing the other to _stop moving and let him sleep._

"Mm," Yamaguchi hums in hazy apology, stilling himself in understanding. Yamaguchi sighs before falling back into slumber, and they stay like that until the sun is beaming so offensively through the windows that they can no longer ignore it.

When they finally roll out of bed, they go about their usual schedule. Tsukishima meanders to the bathroom lazily, while Yamaguchi makes the bed. They alternate on who makes the bed and today isn't Tsukishima's day. He can hear Yamaguchi humming as he pulls the thin sheets over their worn mattress, a song he recognized as from one of his tapes, because he often lent Yamaguchi his headphones when he left the house to get something done. He doesn't want to admit that the sight of Yamaguchi sitting on their couch, legs outstretched as if they _don't live in hell, _humming to a familiar tune comforts him.

They are sitting around their table now, made from a slab of wood nailed into a tree stump since they had sold their _real_ table, having bits of soup that consisted mostly of water and a few leaves of cabbage. There was no taste. That wasn't the point, anyway.

Tsukishima has his headphones resting on his shoulder, but the music is on, droning softly to echo into both their ears as they ate in a comfortable silence. It had rained the day before, but this morning was oddly bright, and they both think they hear birds chirping in the distance. An oddly beautiful day—despite the commencement of the Hunger Games.

Yamaguchi blinks for a moment before looking up at Tsukishima, spoon still head up to his mouth, as if mirroring his thoughts. "Isn't the tribute parade today..?"

_Huh_. Tsukishima thought silently, chewing one leaf longer in attempt to savor it. _It was._

"Maybe we should go check it out," Yamaguchi starts, sipping the soup from an old wooden spoon, "you know, to support Kageyama and Sugawara." Tsukishima raises a defiant brow for a moment, but realizes Yamaguchi is probably linking this back to Tsukishima's own awkward display of condolences, as well as the events that played out last night. It comforts him that Yamaguchi does not mention it, instead acting as if this display of concern was only Yamaguchi's sentiment—and absolutely was _not_ Tsukishima's. Tsukishima didn't really like being called out on worrying needlessly about others.

"I want to support them as much as we can, if you don't mind." Yamaguchi is swirling his spoon in his soup now, always eating slowly to savor every last bit. He didn't even have to think about it. "They helped us a lot last winter."

Kageyama, Sugawara, Daichi and Hinata _did_ help last winter, so Tsukishima nods in agreement. Fine, they would watch the tribute parade, if only to see how Daichi and Hinata were doing.

* * *

><p>On their way to watch an update of the Games, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi cross paths with Nishinoya, a small, ball of energy that lived with Asahi, one of the village healers. From what Tsukishima knew, Nishinoya and Asahi were incredibly close with Daichi and Sugawara, but weren't out or around as much because Asahi had somehow gotten himself so sick that he was bedridden. Nishinoya (rumor had it) had confined him to that room, not allowing him to get out, insistent on his rest, knowingly shouldering Asahi's work day in addition to his own. Nishinoya seemed more energetic from day to day, despite the extra load of work on his shoulders and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi often ran into him, bolting back and forth from the town, and even crossing paths with them outside of the forest.<p>

The rumors going around town involving Nishinoya and Asahi were ridiculous. Tsukishima himself (and Yamaguchi for that matter), weren't close to the two, so they personally had no idea if the rumors were true.

People said it was odd, how Asahi and Nishinoya, who weren't on the 'richer' side of the village, could suddenly afford their own house, with payments and expenses all paid off. It was said that they somehow moved out of their smaller, decrepit household, into a more comfortable one— the one they live in now, situated towards the outskirts of town. It wasn't in the 'richer' side of the village, but still, it was much better than what several individuals had in a lifetime. People in the village had surmised that Asahi must have been selling something illegal on the side, something along the line of medications and drugs— because he looked 'sketchy'. Being a healer, he probably would have some kind of supply for peacekeepers or whoever else was 'buying' from him.

The villagers talked endlessly about their relationship too— with incredible disdain and disapproval. Asahi and Nishinoya were open about their relationship, or at least the smaller one of the two was. Tsukishima often noted that Nishinoya would jump up, or tug Asahi down into a kiss before leaving to work or scavenge—or do whatever he needed to do during the day. It used to be that both Asahi and Nishinoya left to work together, but that suddenly stopped. Asahi had begun to stay home. Villagers of course viewed this as even more evidence that Asahi was gathering income elsewhere, with these 'shadowy' circumstances.

The fact that they were both men didn't seem to bother the villagers as much as the way they _looked_, something about how Asahi was a pedophile and a creep for 'manipulating' a child like that, looking to be at _least_ ten years Nishinoya's senior. It didn't help that he towered above the other male, with his hair tied up into a messy bun, with facial hair that sometimes remained unkempt, in such a way that the village elders regarded to it as 'suspicious in nature'.

Tsukishima personally never saw Asahi do anything negative and distrustful and to Tsukishima— it seemed like Nishinoya was constantly the instigator to any kind of intimacy—at least in public. If anything, Asahi seemed to be nothing more than a gentle giant, even shy and awkward at times.

Whatever their situation entailed, Tsukishima didn't care. It was their business. If it made them happy, then it was their right to spend their lives the way they wanted to. The rest of the village didn't matter. It didn't matter what they thought. Asahi and Nishinoya didn't seem to care, and neither did Tsukishima. If they suddenly disapproved of Tsukishima living with Yamaguchi, it didn't matter.

It just _didn't_ matter.

Absolutely_ none_ of it.

So as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima pass Nishinoya, who is carrying something inside a bag that is twice his size, as people murmur about loudly, wondering where Asahi is and muttering about how insensitive it is for him to leave Nishinoya out there on his own even if he _is sick in bed_, Tsukishima nods at Nishinoya in a kind of reassuring gesture.

Nishinoya and Asahi don't care about what a few villagers thought about them, and Tsukishima admired that—more than he could possibly say.

* * *

><p>There is a small crowd in a crude tavern-like home that day, one of the only places with television in the poorer part of the district. Tsukishima pushes himself through the crowd, making his way to the front (at the exasperation and expense of others), to where Sugawara and Kageyama are.<p>

Sugawara seems to notice the rustling (or maybe the resounding complaints of the others (it wasn't Tsukishima's fault if they were so short he could shove through them), turns, then nods slightly at Yamaguchi and him, smiling as best he can in light of the circumstances. "The gates haven't opened yet."

Yamaguchi leans near Tsukishima's side, having had more difficulty getting through the crowd than Tsukishima did, being smaller and having less of an 'ominous' presence than him. "Does it start soon?"

As if on cue, there is a collective murmur in the room when the television seems to flicker to life. There are two announcers (to Tsukishima, both looking and sounding like pompous idiots) as they describe district after district.

The main announcer has short, bright blonde hair, so straight-cut that it looked as if it could cut her cheeks every time she swayed in excitement. Her eyes and brows were fierce and frightening, lined heavily with black and brown pencil. She was extremely angular, what the capitol might call: "modern". Her personality is veritably strong, the way her mouth curls up into a wide grin, eyes glistening with eagerness in response to the situation unfolding around her. She is wearing Capitol garbage, but she seems to have retained her strong persona even with the ridiculous garb. She introduces herself as Saeko, and that she will be headlining this year's games.

They're talking about useless things, about how each of the tributes look, how they so _perfectly_ represent their respective districts and other things that clearly just didn't matter.

The citizens were animals that didn't care for the welfare of human-beings. The citizens only wanted to see them locked up in an arena, forcing them slaughter to each other in a fantastic, barbaric display on high-definition television for all the world to see.

Tsukishima takes a moment to look over at Sugawara and Kageyama.

Sugawara gasps, almost inaudibly, and now seems to be holding his breath. He is unmoving and his eyes are fixed on the screen, his hand clasping gently at his blue scarf. His eyes are glazed and he is lightly biting his lip in apprehension.

Kageyama seems to be somewhat shaking, hands fisted to his sides in a fit of nervousness (or anger, Tsukishima couldn't be sure) –fisted so tightly that Tsukishima thinks they'll bruise. Kageyama's scowl is even deeper than it usually is and his eyes are searching the screen for answers. He is trying to catch a glimpse _behind_ the announcers, behind the opening districts to catch a glimpse of something (or _someone, _Tsukishima assumed) else.

"Wait—what the _hell_ is that?!" The announcer begins excitedly, suddenly straightening up in the chair before bolting up in sheer excitement. She is grinning as she stands up, nearly toppling the table over, surprising the one accompanying her. Tsukishima narrows his eyes. She almost seems more of a thug than the "couture" ladies supposedly bred and pampered by the Capitol.

There is a fire in the distance, then the cameras finally zoom in. Was there an accident?

It takes a moment for Tsukishima to realize it's Daichi and Hinata, swept up in an amazing blaze of fire, in a glow of diverse colors in a black chariot, textured with different leathers and sheeny material. The fire looks so real that Tsukishima can feel Yamaguchi flinch beside him, gingerly taking hold of his shoulder. Tsukishima leans in closer.

Sugawara and Kageyama say nothing and do nothing. It's apparent there is nothing else in the world of more importance to them other than this moment.

* * *

><p>Tsukishima raises a speculative brow. If one looked closely, Daichi at first seemed curious, looking around him, while the other— <em>heh<em>, Hinata looks like he's about to be sick (though most of the people watching probably couldn't tell because Tsukishima was probably just staring harder than average). Whether he liked it or not, he almost automatically observed the actions of others scrutinizing situations more so than he ever needed.

The people in the town begin to mutter and talk amongst themselves before the television (and said people around him began to react strongly again).

"Now _that's_ the kind of thing I want to see!" The thug-announcer (as Tsukishima had so fondly named her) responds again, shoving her fist into the screen. "Saying, I'm proud of being here, I'm proud of my district, and _damn it,_ get a load of this! These bastards know what it's all about!"

Tsukishima's eyes are lifted to the screen and Daichi and Hinata have clasped their hands together, raising it in a show of what appeared to be pride and confidence. All traces of trepidation and doubt were gone.

Daichi's lips are stretched to a thin line; his eyes are narrowed in a way where he seems _almost _arrogant. He is standing so straight, so confident—that Tsukishima is almost sure that had the Hunger Games begun at this moment, Daichi would have been able to take down any tribute in his way.

Tsukishima's eyes dart to Sugawara and he notices that Sugawara's eyes are beginning to glaze, biting his bottom lip so strongly that the edges where his teeth and lip meet are turning white. He is obviously fighting back any of the evidence of emotion pooling in his eyes, silver brows evidently forcing themselves to stay low and focused.

Hinata looks similar to Daichi—his size making absolutely no difference in the demonstration they were creating. His brows are furrowed so closely that he looks intimidating; his eyes are wide, almost in a frighteningly sick, deranged way, almost looking like he is enjoying this. His orange hair seems to only increase this effect, as the fires around him seem to burn only brighter.

The flames are literally reflecting in both their eyes, mirroring their momentary fervor.

Tsukishima hears a slight grunt near Sugawara, and this time, Kageyama has his head down, far enough so that his bangs are somewhat covering his face. His eyes are still fixed onto the screen, and he is visibly shaking now, nodding, with his lips moving lightly but noiselessly, as if telepathically congratulating and willing the smaller tribute to _be strong and stay strong._

After the final announcements are made, the tribute parade is over. Most of the people where they are currently gathered have dispersed, and soon, only the four of them left standing.

It is Sugawara who speaks first, letting out a shaky breath.

"T-They're okay," he starts, blinking back, smiling in spite of himself. His legs are beginning to shake and not long after, he is kneeling on the floor. "T-They're… okay."

_They're okay_, Tsukishima thinks. _For now._

Yamaguchi has his hand on Tsukishima's arm, and tightening his grip slightly, as if responding to his thoughts.

Kageyama has his head turned away, in that infuriating, attempting to conceal his emotion type of way. Tsukishima for once isn't bothered by the darker haired one's actions, because oddly, he can relate, much more than he would care to admit.

"Come on, Tsukki," Yamaguchi says softly, "Let's take them back home and get them something to drink." He is kneeling now, tugging Sugawara gently off the ground.

Tsukishima lifts his head to gaze at Kageyama, then crosses his arms, beckoning him to follow. "Come on." Tsukishima finally mumbles under his breath, glaring unintentionally. "We have food to spare."

_They don't_, he thinks. But for now, it's really all they can do.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note [K]:<strong> To those who read the last chapter early (before I could change my author's note), I'm sorry for the lack of Nekoma-babies in this chapter. I was so excited to get the last chapter done and over with that I completely forgot I wrote this one. =v=;;

Throughout the story you can expect some "recap" chapters like this, because we think it's really important to go back to the district and show how Kageyama/Sugawara react to Daichi and Hinata's situations (though in this one it's more how Kageyama and Sugawara react through Tsukishima's eyes.) We thought it would also be nice to touch on AsaNoya a bit more in this chapter. Saeko is also introduced; she'll be narrating the games for the districts on full high-definition. (They'll love that). As we've said, Tanaka isn't showing up in this story (again, a reason for that), but I just want to put out there that he and Saeko _aren't_ related in this universe.

A note on Tsukishima, yes, he does seem jaded and 'harsh'. That's done on purpose, and his character will fill out more later. He lost his brother before he was even born, father by the time he was six, mother when he turned nine. He and Yamaguchi had to learn to live on their own before they even reached double-digits in terms of age, sold off most of their belongings in the house for money/to survive and even succumbed to putting their names into the reaping bowl extra times just for some more sustenance. Given the situation, with the things he's been through and his canon personality, we think his less than rosy outlook in this world is justified. Besides, if you _really _look closely, he has his sweet moments. X3

Lastly, LOL, he has a Walkman, because I can't see a peacekeeper just flinging an iPod away. We're trying to keep little things like that in the story, so… yes. It's fun, finding ways to incorporate them. **Please do** comment, we work pretty hard on these chapters, so I cannot even express how much we'd love to hear any kind of response.

Thank you in advance for reading, and _thank you very much_ to those who have commented/fav'd/etc.—you're why we keep writing!

The next chapter DEFINITELY will have Nekoma in it and even some KageHina!


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